Letting Go:  A Winter Fanisode
by BeforeItWasCool
Summary: Everyone gets a lesson in letting go when a hoarder is admitted to PPTH, a prankster spares noone and Foreman confronts an old nemesis; plus House tries to recreate a certain moment on a certain desk. FINAL ACT SIX NOW UP. Set between 7x10 & 7x11.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, fellow House fans! I have returned with another Fanisode to help you all through the LONG winter's break until the next House episode. As in a regular episode this Fanisode is six acts. One act will be posted each week during this break at and my blog ****.**** . I know, I'm a bit late this week. Sorry. As in my other Fanisode "It's About Time," I will be using music to enhance the story. I will include multiple links for the songs when possible. **

**This story takes place after "Small Sacrifices."**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own House. I'm asking David Shore for him as a Christmas present, but I'm not holding my breath…..**

"Letting Go"

Act One

FADE IN

The weather was unseasonably warm. The high temperatures on Christmas Day and New Year's Day both broke local records and although it could never be described as balmy, the day had turned out to be lovely. Margaret loved warm days. On those days she could go outside. On those days she could escape the prison that was her home and venture out into the world for a while. She could walk without stubbing her toes on boxes or wedging herself between towers of junk. On these days she went to the front porch which still sat pristine and uncluttered. Sometimes she even took short walks down the sidewalk, marveling in the feeling of open space.

Margaret's walk today was shorter than usual. Her daughter was coming by to check on her. Margaret was still recovering from the flu. She had been hit really hard a week before Christmas and had spent the rest of the year in bed; well not in bed, exactly. Her bed was actually covered with clothes she meant to take to the Salvation Army and bags of purses with tags still on them. She had found a thin strip of space on the couch and had made do. She felt better, but still struggled with her energy level. Getting old sucks, she thought. Margaret sighed. Her daughter's visit today was probably more just another attempt at changing her ways rather than checking on her wellbeing. You weren't always like this, her daughter, Beth, would say. We can fix this. But the very thought of giving away things or throwing out things made Margaret's blood pressure rise and it had become easier to simply agree and then never invite her daughter over anymore.

Margaret climbed up the three steps that led to her front porch. She paused for a moment before pulling open the screen door and pushing in her heavy wooden front door. The space behind the door was the only clear area in the front room. Mounds and towers of stuff rose to the ceiling. The bright blue walls were completely hidden by everything stacked against them. A small path, eight inches wide, showed the way to the kitchen at the back of the house. Another narrow path led to a bedroom and a bathroom, although she hadn't been able to use the shower in years. She had a garden hose hooked up to her sink for hair washing. Sponge baths suited her just fine for everything else. There was no path for a second bedroom, long ago filled to the ceiling. Aside from the small amount of space on the couch, the only other open space was a four-foot by 2 foot area in the kitchen in front of the refrigerator, stove, and sink. Margaret never allowed this space to become cluttered. It proved that she wasn't one of those crazy hoarders her daughter watched on TV and told her about. She was fastidious when it came to food and cooking. No smells of rotten food and decay permeated her home. She was definitely not one of _those_ hoarders.

Margaret made her way to her kitchen to put on a kettle of water for tea. She wanted Beth to see how capable she was. She reached for the kettle, her wrist twinging from the effort. Her arthritis was acting up. The doctor had given her the "Nothing we can do" speech and sent her home with a bottle of Aleve. Beth wanted a second opinion. Her daughter always meant well. As the kettle started to whistle, Margaret heard a key in the door. Beth was here. She pulled the kettle off the burner and put it on the stove.

"I'm back here, Beth," she called out. Turning to pull her box of tea from the cupboard, she felt a sharp pain bolt down her left arm. She grabbed her arm and gasped.

"Mom!" she could hear Beth say, her voice getting louder as Beth walked along the path to the kitchen. "Are you okay?" Margaret could only hold onto her arm as another bolt of pain took her breath away. She turned to see her daughter enter the kitchen. Margaret saw the look of concern on her daughter's face for a split second before everything faded to black. She felt herself begin to fall and heard her daughter's cry of alarm. She was completely unconscious by the time her limp form crashed into the stack of old magazines and newspaper clippings crowding the edge of her kitchen. She never heard her daughter's desperate call to 911; never saw the paramedics struggle to remove her from the house that had become her prison.

FADE OUT TO OPENING CREDITS

FADE IN

The door to Exam Room 2 opened and a young, energetic lady practically hopped out of the room. She was followed much more slowly by a tall, blue-eyed doctor with a significant limp.

"Gosh, thanks, Dr. House," the girl said, stopping and turning to wait for House to catch up to her. "That neck muscle has been freaking out since New Year's and with one little tweek I'm cured!" She raised her hands above her head happily. "Hallelujah! It's a miracle!"

"Please, no praise. I'm not the Messiah, just a man…with a huge Messiah complex." House plopped the patient folder down on the counter. He pulled out his pen from his pocket and began filling in some numbers.

"Well, anyway. I am so greatful, though. Thanks." She started to turn away then remembered something. "Oh, I still need your email address so I can put you on our Bible study group list. I know everyone will be so excited to have a doctor in the group." The girl grabbed a flyer advertising flu shots from the counter and looked for a pen. "Excuse me," she asked the male nurse behind the desk. "Do you have a pen?"

Nurse Jeffery looked up from his pile of paperwork. "Not a single one," he sighed. "They've all been taken."

House looked up at this oddity. "Seriously. All of them."

Nurse Jeffrey sighed. "Yes."

"Hmmmm, you think some genius would have attached something to them to make them harder to tuck in a purse," House said.

Nurse Jeffrey reached under the counter and pulled out a decorated can full of brightly colored fake flowers, the remnants of green floral tape still dangling off the stems. "You think?" he said, distastefully.

"Planning your spring wedding? Who's the lucky groom?" House snarked.

The already unamused face of Nurse Jeffery quickly darkened. He put the can back under the counter and picked up his pile of papers. He gave House one more death look then stormed off.

"HR office?" House called after him. "Same day. Same time."

Nurse Jeffery ignored him as he walked out of the clinic. House chuckled. It was almost too easy sometimes, he thought. He saw the girl still standing by his elbow out of the corner of his eye. He looked at her.

"Your email, Dr. House?" she asked cherrily.

"Oh, right," he grabbed the paper from the girl and wrote something down on it. He saw Cuddy come through the clinic doors. He felt the adrenaline surge through his entire body. He never got tired of it. He handed the paper to the girl. "There you go."

The girl looked at it and confusion clouded her face. She read what House had written on the paper, " j-e-wilson-md?"

"Yeah," said House, slipping his pen back into his coat pocket. "It's my username. One can never be too careful. Oh and can you have each member of the group send me a note with some cool facts about them? Even medical facts. I want to feel like I know these people before we all meet."

The girl's face lit up. "Of course, that's a great idea! Talk to you soon."

"Hmmm," House said distractedly. He had slipped the patient's folder into the "out" slot and turned to pay his full attention to his gorgeous boss. She looked amazing today in her dark purple blouse with the olive military-style jacket with matching pencil skirt. He took a second to look down at her legs, smiling at what he saw. He had once thought that knowing what she looked like naked would take the allure away from seeing her in her amazingly well-cut work clothes. It didn't. It made it better.

Cuddy laughed, softly in her throat. "Sounds like Wilson's going to have to change his email. Again." House's eyes darkened.

"You better not laugh like that while looking like that or the hospital will have to go without its administrator for the next 15 minutes," he said quietly. No one was around to hear their conversation, but anybody watching could read their body language.

"Wow, 15 whole minutes," Cuddy whispered back. "You are a smooth talker." She looked him in the eye then let her gaze slip down to his mouth. "And you'd better stop leering at me like that or someone will report you to HR."

"I've always leered at you. Even when we weren't sleeping together." He smiled at Cuddy; his small happy smile. "Why should I stop now when it's finally legal?"

They stared at each other for a long while, unaware of the commotions and bustlings around them. Their relationship was in a good place right now. As soon as House had lied to Cuddy about being sorry for lying to her things fell back into place. More like he fell back into her place. He was surprised by the lack of guilt he had for his "little fib." But after all, Wilson had advised him to do that very thing. Wilson, Mr. Truth-At-All-Costs Wilson. Wilson actually saw it as a big step forward for House. Sure he was still lying, but this time he lied in admitting he was wrong. Even the stink of someone thinking he was wrong would send House into high defense mode in the past, but now he was even admitting to being wrong. Well, lying about being wrong. It was rather complicated. And poor Wilson. He had just seen firsthand how much the truth can cost someone. Sam was still M.I.A. and although Wilson was slowly accepting her departure, House could tell Wilson was still pining for her. House had never actually liked Sam, but at least she had kept Wilson entertained. Wilson was fast becoming the third wheel. House wondered if he should do something to help Wilson win Sam back. Maybe….

"Hey, remember me?" Cuddy said, snapping House out of his wonderings.

House's eyes focused back onto Cuddy's face. "Not exactly. Why don't you get naked and then ask me again."

"You're incorrigible," Cuddy said, but she sounded more pleased than disgusted by that fact. She broke the mood by bringing up a blue patient file and slapping it against House's chest. "You have a new patient. 68-year-old female. Margaret Petticrew. Brought into the ER with a heart attack, although the ER docs found no evidence of one. She's just recently gotten over the flu but still complains of lethargy and weakness. She's being admitted right now and your team is already beginning preliminary tests to rule out any ER mistakes."

House took the file, but didn't open it. "Wow, I am efficient. I'm running my team without ever having to issue a command."

"The team will be waiting for you in your office to fill you in on their test results in about an hour, I guess."

"So what should I do for an hour?" House asked. He leaned into Cuddy, definitely breaking her professional personal space limit, but she didn't back up. In fact, she too leaned closer.

"I think your answer is over there," she said quietly, nodding over to the corner. She turned her eyes to look at what she was referring to.

House followed her gaze. His adrenaline surged for a second as he saw her looking toward her office with its thick shutters, but a cold bucket of reality drenched his hopes when he realized she was actually looking at a young mother and her three young children sitting in the waiting chairs; all of them covered with chicken pox sores. He closed his eyes.

"Have a good morning," Cuddy said sexily and then she turned on the heel of her expensive shoes and walked back out of the clinic. She threw a smile over her shoulder at her lover as she went out of sight. House sighed again. Then opening his eyes he grabbed the maroon folder out of the "In" box and called out four names.

Taub took the blood pressure cuff off of Margaret's arm and put it back on the cart. "No difference then this morning, Mrs. Petticrew." He picked up her chart and wrote down the numbers. "It's a tad high which may explain your lethargy, but not your heart problems from yesterday." He looked at the small woman laying in the bed. She seemed clean and well-kept. She was coherent and pleasant to be around and almost fastidious in her appearance. She was definitely not like someone you'd expect to be an obsessive hoarder. Taub had talked to the ER Nurse that had been told the story of this woman's extraction from her house. The EMT's could barely get the board stretcher in there and then they had to knock over some of the towers of junk to get it in. The patient's blood pressure had risen with each attempt at clearing a path through the chaos so that the EMT's could carry her out. The lady that talked genially to him now seemed like the kind of lady who did her delicate needlepoint in a perfectly kept living room, with plastic-covered sofas.

"Well, I'm sure I don't want to cause you any problems, Dr Taub," she said politely. She carefully straightened her sheets. "I'm sure I'll be fine. If you would just discharge me I'll be on my way. I need to go back to my home." Margaret smiled at Dr. Taub. Taub actually agreed with Margaret. There didn't seem to be anything wrong with her.

"Nonsense, mother," a voice said from the doorway. "You need to stay here. I keep telling you that you need to have a thorough check up done. We'll get all your lab work and then we'll see what the doctors say."

Taub turned towards the voice. A woman in her early 40's walked into the room. She placed her high-end, expensive bag on the small bedside table. Reaching inside, she grabbed out her iphone, which was chirping urgently. "One minute, I have to take this," she said. She turned her back towards the others in the room, but didn't try to lower her voice. "Yes, hello. No, I'm with my mother. I understand." She paused for a long time, listening. "Okay, tell the Merck rep that I'm going to have to meet with him tomorrow to go over percentages and Johnson will have to go ahead with the inspections by himself. I'll try to get back today. Late. Fine. Thanks." She clicked off the phone and turned back toward the group. "Sorry, work," she explained.

Taub's curiousity was piqued. He knew Merck was a well-known drug company. There was only one reason a drug rep would want to meet with her to discuss "percentages."

Margaret saw Taub's interest and proudly explained, "My daughter is a doctor."

Taub raised his eyebrows.

The woman shook her head. "Not practicing, mother," She chided. "My name is Dr. Elizabeth Schaeffer. I'm the Dean of Medicine over at New York Mercy." This statement made Taub's eyebrows lift even higher. "Yes, I'm abandoning my ship. This is my mother. My hospital has already done a battery of tests and wanted to send her home. As much as it pained me I brought her here. I wanted Dr. House to see her."

Margaret reached out a hand and placed it on her daughter's arm. "Did you go by my house?" she asked quietly. "Is everything okay?"

Taub watched as Dr. Schaeffer covered her mom's hand with her own. "Yes, mom, I went by. Everything is exactly the same."  
"Except for the messes those EMT's made. No one took anything out did they?" Her voice was becoming agitated and Taub glanced over at the monitor. Margaret's blood pressure had increases slightly.

"No, mom, no one took anything." Dr. Schaeffer paused. "Although, while you're sick maybe we could get some help in there. You know. Just to organize things."

Margaret's blood pressure spiked at that comment and her face went white. Taub stepped forward. "Look, I'm sure everything's okay at home, Mrs. Pettingcrew. Your daughter will leave everything as it is until you're better and can be home to help." He turned toward Dr. Schaeffer. "Right, Dr. Schaeffer?"

Dr. Schaeffer withdrew her hand from her mother's and nodded, giving in. "Yes, of course. Has Dr. House been in to see my mother yet?"

"No, not yet. Dr. House generally doesn't visit the patients directly. And we're still processing all the initial tests. We'll let you know anything we find out," Taub finished. He gathered up his paperwork and began to leave the room.

"What do you mean Dr. House generally doesn't visit the patients directly?" Dr. Schaeffer said, stopping Taub in his tracks. "Has he been informed of who his patient is?"

"Beth, please," Margaret said, embarrassed at her daughter's presumptiveness. "I'm sure everyone is being very thorough. Dr. Taub here is most kind and complete."

Taub nodded his thanks. "Yes, Dr. Schaeffer. We give the most thorough care possible regardless of who the patient is." He saw Dr. Schaeffer's eyebrow lift in unhappiness. "But I'll make sure to let Dr. House know. Now, if you'll excuse me." Taub nodded, smiled and quickly left the room. His brain was racing. He was anxious to not only tell House who his patient was, but Foreman as well. Because he was pretty sure it was Dr. Schaeffer who had fired Foreman almost three years ago for ignoring the rules: ignoring HER rules. Oh, this was going to be good.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Okay, let me know how you all like it so far. I have missed the Huddiness of the first two episodes of season 7 so I promise to provide some. Check back in next week!


	2. Chapter 2

OK, readers, sorry for the wait. I was laid up with two semi-herniated discs in my back and while the pain and Percocet made me empathize more with our favorite blue-eyed doctor it was NOT conducive to writing a coherent story. I will get the next act out as soon as possible. I do my best to have everyone stay in character but I am also missing my Huddy moments so forgive me at times.

I don't own House and Santa says he's unfamiliar with intellectual property rights so that's a dead end too. I won't give up.

**Letting Go**

**Act Two**

FADE IN

The tennis ball flew up in the sky. Reaching its apex it began to fall back down. House watched it carefully, prepared to catch it with his right hand as his left hand let go of another tennis ball. A third ball took its turn into the sky.

"Okay," House said quietly. "When I say go." He caught the first ball. "Go!"

At the word, Chase let go of the ball he had in his hand, arching it up toward House to try to match the route of the other balls. But his aim was off and the ball sailed over House's head by a good two feet. House stopped juggling and stared at Chase.

"Sorry," Chase mumbled.

"It's a tennis ball," House said. "Not a rugby ball."

"Sorry," Chase repeated. "I told you I couldn't do it." He held up his hands and walked back to the conference table in the diagnosis department office. Shaking his head he sat down and picked up the case file.

House turned towards the table. "Taub, your turn," he said.

"Not a chance," Taub said. "Pick someone else to humiliate."

House turned to Foreman. House merely raised his eyebrows. Foreman looked up from the case file to meet House's gaze.

"No," Foreman said pointedly. "Our patient is a 68-year-old woman who experienced chest pain radiating down her left arm. She passed out shortly thereafter. The ER at New York Mercy ruled out a heart attack and only detected a fleeting arrhythmia, which regulated itself after a few hours. Her blood sugar was low but also returned to normal range."

"Stop trying to distract me," House said. He turned towards Masters and started to say something to her, but stopped and returned to Foreman. "New York Mercy?" House said. "Blast from the past, eh, Foreman?"

Foreman shook his head. "I had nothing to do with the ER," Foreman said.

"Yeah, and after nuking that girl you had nothing to do with the rest of the hospital," House said. He smiled.

Foreman shook his head. "I was right."

"Didn't matter," House said. "At least not to Mercy's boss. Too bad you weren't sleeping with her."

Foreman again shook his head in dismay. How did they let House get away with saying these things? "You pulled stunts like that for a long time before you were sleeping with your boss."

House nodded. "You're right. I guess Cuddy's always been sweet on me. Lucky for all of us." House returned then to Masters. "Your turn." He said to her.

Masters looked scared. "I can't guarantee I can do it any better than Chase could." She mumbled.

"Nonsense. Use that super brain of yours to figure out the trajectory or whatever and toss the ball. Shouldn't be too hard for a genius like you," House said. He retrieved the ball Chase had thrown over his head and handed it to Masters, who looked deep in thought as House positioned himself about four feet in front of Masters.

"What about our patient?" Taub asked, already knowing the answer, but wanting to sound like he was contributing.

"I can do both the juggling and the differential," House said, putting two balls in his right hand and one in his left. "I am that good." He tossed the balls into the air, carefully juggling them as he spoke. "Did the ER check for possible blood clots?"

Foreman, understanding where he was going with this answered, "They took it into consideration but never confirmed. The patient's vitals returned to normal after a few IV bags." He paused to watch House for a second. "If she did throw a clot it may not even be detectable now. With her slightly high blood pressure she's a good candidate for some metabolic syndromes."

"You think Cushing's?" House said, still juggling.

"Possibly or maybe just hypertension," Foreman shrugged. "It sure seems like it's nothing serious…or at least nothing mysterious enough to bring it to you."

"Well," House said slowly, concentrating. "It appears that I have a reputation as a genius. It's more of a burden than a gift. Really." He went through a couple more toss cycles. "Ready, Masters?" he said. Masters nodded that she was ready. "Okay, now!"

At his command, Masters lobbed the tennis ball into the air. It arched slightly before dropping perfectly into House's hands. Not one beat was missed as House now juggled the four tennis balls easily.

"Perfect!" House said happily.

"I figured out the trajectory," Masters said smiling. She turned toward the team. "I wrote a paper on trebuchet warfare during the 15th century. When I was in the sixth grade."

The rest of the team just shook their heads. It was hard to hate the latest edition of the team. She was young and naïve but had the courage to stand up to House. She was soon becoming the little sister to all of them.

"With the low blood sugar and possible blood clots it could be any number of blood related diseases," House said, while still juggling. "Masters, I'm feeling lucky. Go get the last tennis ball off of my desk. We're going for five!"

Masters scurried into House's office to retrieve the ball.

"She's a hoarder," Taub stated. Everyone turned to him. "The patient. I talked with one of the EMTs. Her house is wall-to-wall junk. Who knows what molds or bacteria has accumulated among her piles of expired coupons or collection of glass bottles she'll need some day. Maybe her flu wasn't just flu. Molds and bacteria could be responsible for the flu-like symptoms."

By this time Masters had positioned herself across from House again. She nodded toward him indicating her readiness. House took a few more passes. "Now!" he called out.

Once again the tennis ball arched perfectly through the air and landed in House's empty hand. He had to make no adjustments in his juggling at all. All of the team forgot the differential and watched House juggle all five balls. Masters, letting her excitement get the best of her, clapped excitedly at the show. House kept the balls going for another minute before tossing the last one high into the air, trapping the remaining four balls in his hands, and then turning slightly to catch the fifth ball behind his back. This earned another round of applause from Masters. House grinned happily. "Awesome!" He said. "Masters, I don't care what the other clowns say; you can be in my circus act anytime."

Masters beamed with pride.

House turned towards the team at the conference table. "Okay, let's get back all those test results we did this morning and see if New York Mercy missed anything. Then Chase and Taub can go to digging for moldy treasure at the patient's house. Foreman, you and Masters check her for clots and redo her blood work. See if her body is like her mind and hoards anything it shouldn't."

Foreman nodded while looking at her file. "It says here that Margaret donates blood once a week. After we run the tests and if there is some disorder or infection I'll look to see if the Red Cross needs to be notified."

"Fine, whatever," House said. He walked over to Chase and handed him the tennis balls to hold. He picked up the folder to take a quick look. There sure didn't seem anything really notable that would warrant his attention on the case. "Hmmmmm. I wonder who Cuddy owes a favor to." He flipped through the rest of the file.

"Maybe you should wonder who Cuddy wants to be owed a favor from?" said a low female voice.

House smiled at the sound of Cuddy's voice. He turned towards the doorway, where Cuddy stood. She leaned against the doorframe, one hand on her hip.

"Hey, gorgeous," House said. He tossed the file down on the table.

Cuddy frowned at his greeting.

"Hey….DOCTOR Gorgeous?" House said, with a mock look of confusion.

Cuddy smiled and let it go. House had been inappropriate at work before they ever got together. Why be worried about it now?

"So?" House asked. "Who do you want to have in your back pocket?" He didn't say anything else, but House's sly smile gave the question a suggestive tone.

Cuddy walked into the room. Standing next to House at the head of the table she looked at the team, then specifically at Foreman. "Check out the name of the referring physician."

Those that had charts did a quick look, except Taub. He smiled and gave the answer away. "Elizabeth Schaeffer. Margaret Petticrew is Dr. Schaeffer's mother."

"Dr. Schaeffer?" Chase asked. "As in Dean of Medicine at New York Mercy, Dr. Schaeffer?"

Taub nodded. Everyone turned towards Foreman. As usual, no emotion crossed his face. All he did was arch an eyebrow at the information.

"Reeeeeaaaaally," House said, intrigued.

"Beth thought that the doctors in the ER missed something. She wanted you to go over her case," Cuddy was trying very hard to not be smug.

House had already sensed it. "But it was HER ER. And doesn't she have her own diagnostic team?"

Cuddy nodded. "Yes, they took a look at her as well and determined that she was dehydrated from the flu and had chronic fatigue syndrome. They even concluded some of the issues could be menopause related." Cuddy couldn't conceal her smugness anymore. She smiled openly and gave a small laugh.

"The woman's 68," Chase said, incredulously. "She probably hasn't had a menstrual cycle for 10 years."

"Tsk. Tsk." House said. He turned toward Foreman. "Didn't you teach your team anything?" Foreman just shrugged. House turned to Cuddy. "Well, well. You are sure eating this up aren't you? The only other female Dean of Medicine with a diagnostic department in the East Coast and she has to come to you for help."

Cuddy's smile reached all the way to her eyes. She was very pleased with herself.

"This should be fun," House said. "I'm curious to meet this woman." Pointing at Chase and Taub he said, "You two get to the patient's house. Foreman, take Masters and get those blood tests done….." He paused and then smiled wickedly. "Unless, Foreman, you'd just like to nuke the patient for some assumed cancer?"

Foreman shook his head, unamused. He simply stood up and left the room, Masters following him like a little puppy. Chase and Taub stood as well and headed out to check out Margaret's house.

Once they were alone, House turned and smiled at Cuddy. "Well, this is quite the belated Hanukkah gift, isn't it?"

"Only if we solve the puzzle, House," Cuddy said seriously. "It could go an entire different way if we end up killing Beth's mom."

"Don't worry. We'll figure it out and then you'll always have the "I-saved-your-mom's-life" trump card to play."

"Thanks," Cuddy said sincerely.

"Now, did you come here for a real reason or just to gloat about our patient's mom?" House asked. He turned and walked into his office. Cuddy followed him.

"Yes, I am here on official business. It seems as though we have a prankster in the hospital," Cuddy explained. "The toilets in both the men's and women's restrooms were covered with plastic wrap at some point during the day. I've had a couple angry, and very wet, women in my office already. The janitor fortunately thought of checking the other bathrooms and discovered the men's restroom outside of the ER was hit as well." She took a deep breath. "Any chance you know something about this?"

House walked over to his desk and picked out a paper clip from the small jar on his desk. As he pulled it out a long chain of connected paper clips followed. He kept pulling until every single clip was out of the jar. The paper clip chain was almost three feet long. House's face did not look amused. "The coffee machine liner also had pinprick holes in it. It took Masters almost 30 minutes to clean up the mess." He took a long look at Cuddy. "You honestly suspected me?"

Cuddy tilted her head and raised an eyebrow. "If the shoe fits…," she said her voice trailing off.

"Well, you can see that we here in the Diagnostic Department are victims as well of this prankster but even more insulting is the fact you thought I would be responsible for pranks so obviously below my prankery level of expertise." House let the paper clips drop onto his desk. "I would think you would know that." He almost looked disappointed as he sat down in his desk.

Cuddy shrugged and walked over to sit on the desk. "Sorry." She shrugged. She patted his shoulder like he was a little boy. "When it comes to pranks you usually are my go-to guy."

"Apology accepted," House said.

"Well, in your travels around the hospital you happen to see anything suspicious…," Cuddy said.

"I'll be sure to nark on them," House supplied. "I can't have anyone trying to steal my title."

"Yes, that's important." Cuddy shook her head. She stood up and began to leave the room but turned as she reached the door. She paused then said quietly. "Fix Schaeffer's mom." It wasn't so much a command as a quiet plea.

House nodded. He looked her straight in the eye. "Guaranteed. I can't have anyone trying to steal my title." He smiled softly, embarrassed at his encouragement.

Cuddy nodded. "Thanks," she said quietly. "See you tonight." Then she turned and walked out of the office. She hesitated a second in the doorway to give House a chance to check out her backside, which House took full advantage off.

Taub watched as Chase picked the lock on the house. Both had the same reaction as Chase opened the door. They gasped in unison as they say the towers of stuff.

"Holy crap," Chase said. "This is insane."

They both barely made it into the open space in front of the door. Taub had to step into the pathway so that Chase could close the door.

Taub looked around. "I don't even know where to start."

"I'll go to the kitchen," Chase responded. "You try to find the bathroom. Then we can start going through the piles for anything."

Taub looked at Chase. "Look, don't mess things up." Chase raised his eyebrows. "I know, it's a mess, but Margaret is very particular. She nearly had a panic attack when her daughter suggested cleaning some things while she was in the hospital."  
"How will she even know? There's so much garbage here."

"I don't know, but just….just be respectful."  
"Fine." Chase headed out towards the kitchen.

Taub followed the path toward the bathroom. "Do you think that this hoarding could be a symptom?" he called out to Chase.

"Maybe a mental issue or brain malfunction, I guess," Chase said. He was standing in the kitchen, marveling at the amount of junk everywhere but equally amazed at the cleanliness of the kitchen. There definitely wasn't enough room for two people in that kitchen but everything that was cleared was wiped down and tidy. Chase saw the kettle still on the stove and the two cups set out. It was not what he was expecting.

Taub had also reached the bathroom. He heard Chase's muted reply but was engrossed in the scene before him. The shower was completely filled with boxes. Rows of shoe boxes lined the walls. The only thing accessible was the sink and the toilet. There was maybe three feet of space to move around in was all. The odd thing was that everything was immaculate. The toilet and sick were scrubbed and clean and free of mold or scum. Squatting in the tight space, Taub opened the cabinet under the sink and found it neatly organized and also clean. He took a few test swabs around the kitchen then gingerly moved some of the boxes to check for rat pellets or any other surprises. He found none.

Chase was having the same experience in the kitchen. Although there was barely enough room for him to turn around everything was spotless. There was no evidence of any mold or toxins or rodents or anything. He heard Taub make his way into the kitchen. He turned towards him.

"Wow," Chase said. "This is the cleanest mess I've ever seen." He shrugged.

"I didn't find anything either….aside from the huge piles of stuff and junk," Taub said. He looked around the kitchen. There was a calendar hanging on a bulletin board on the wall beside the refrigerator. Each Monday was marked with "Donate blood." Last Thursday was marked "Doc follow-up." Next to it was an envelope marked with "Bills To Pay." Under that was a list of numbers and a few personal pictures: one of Margaret and Beth together and another of an older couple standing outside the house they were now in. "Where's the 'Paid Bills' envelope?" Taub muttered. He saw Chase point to the opposite wall where 6 bankers boxes were stacked on top of each other, each one labeled "Paid Bills." He shook his head. "Well, I doubt we're dealing with toxins or molds. I'll go check the water heater and look for gas leaks."

"Yeah, I'll check out the bedroom and look for medications," Chase said. "She's been battling flu for the past few weeks."

They both set about the tasks. After twenty minutes they met back up in the small space in front of the door. Taub had a plastic bag filled with Theraflu, sleeping pills, a large bottle of Aleve and vitamins. Chase had all negative readings. Overall, the visit to Margaret's house ruled out environment issues, but didn't give any hints or leads to what was wrong with Margaret. As they looked through some of the boxes and piles they realized that while it was excessive everything was fairly organized.

"She's got the flu," Chase said. "Maybe diabetes." He shook his head. "I will say this. She's organized. It's not typical for a hoarder." He took a long look around. "I wonder why she does this? Why would you want to hold onto everything? Forever? It's not healthy." He shrugged and opened the door as Taub took stepped out of the way.

Taub stood there for a second and the thought of his wife flashed through his mind. She still refused to stop contacting her "friend" online in the support group. She still felt justified in her friendship after all the heartache and betrayal she had experienced with her husband. He looked at the boxes and boxes and stacks of everything there in that room and realized that not everything people refuse to give up could be stored in a box. Shaking his head, Taub left the house, locking the door behind him.

Cuddy sat at her desk in her office. The sun had begun its downward journey and she still had mounds of paperwork to complete. There would have to be a miracle for her to get home before her nanny left at 8. Cuddy had almost successfully managed the double life she led as hospital administrator and mother. She had thought that as Rachel got older it would be easier. After all, the time she took to just take care of Rachel's simple needs was getting shorter. Rachel had finally been potty trained. She could feed herself and was communicating really well. But Cuddy was now discovering that Rachel had begun to need Cuddy's presence more now as a companion. Gone were the days of caregiver. Rachel needed a mom now.

Cuddy never went to work on Saturday, instead keeping her phone in her pocket all day. Three days a week, including Friday, Cuddy had arranged her schedule to be home by 5pm. She protected those evenings seriously. Now that House had begun staying the night more frequently, she could spend the entire evening with Rachel and put her to bed, then give the attention to House that they both craved. Yet, the other three days of the week found Cuddy staying much later than she wanted to. Some days in order to make up for the days she left early she would be at work till 9pm, coming home only after Rachel had long been put to bed by the nanny. Cuddy felt as though she was missing half of her daughter's life experience.

Guilt had always been an issue with Cuddy. Guilt was one of the main motivating factors in just about all the personal things she did. The other factor was a drive to be the best. Those two factors played on each other all the time. Lately, feelings of failure at being a good mother and a good hospital administrator had pushed her guilt level to an ultimate high.

When Beth Schaeffer had called to ask if House could look at her mother, Cuddy was thrilled at the opportunity for one-upmanship. But her feelings of victory soon turned to fear at the thought that Dr. Schaeffer would easily see how low her competition had sunk.

Cuddy ran a tired hand over her face. She put her pen down and ran her fingers through her hair, pulling it back from her face and stretching out her neck. Releasing her hair she looked at the clock again. 7:30. Cuddy closed her eyes in defeat. The sound of a knock on the door quickly opened her eyes again. She looked to see who it could be at this hour. She had sent her assistant home long ago. She trapped a sigh in her throat when she saw her late-night visitor. She motioned Dr. Beth Schaeffer into her office.

Schaeffer strode purposefully into the room. She stopped inches from the front of Cuddy's desk and set her hands on her hips. Schaeffer was in charge of her own hospital and no one intimidated her.

"Lisa," Schaeffer said forcefully. "I want to know when your famous Dr. House is going to grace my mother with his presence. She's been here now almost an entire day and I've dealt only with his team. I know they're good doctors but I didn't make these arrangements to have them diagnose her."

Cuddy nodded. She wouldn't take this attack personally, she decided. After all, right now Beth Schaeffer was just another worried relative. "I understand your concern, Beth. Really I do." She motioned for Schaeffer to take a seat. "Dr. House stays in contact with his team at all times. I know personally that he was in a DDX with them just a few hours ago. He instructed them to pursue certain paths towards some theories." Cuddy reached for a folder on her desk corner. Opening it she quickly read through the latest notes. "Doctors Masters and Foreman are currently running blood work and other tests to be sure what was done at the ER was done correctly." She looked up, embarrassed, because she had essentially just dissed Schaeffer's own ER.

"That's exactly what I would have done," Schaeffer said, waving off Cuddy's concerns.

Cuddy nodded, relieved, and continued. "Doctors Taub and Chase returned from your mother's home with no hard findings although they are running tests right now in the lab for environmental causes." Cuddy looked up to see Schaeffer's face had lost all its color. Cuddy had heard briefly that the patient was a hoarder but hadn't really thought much of it so she thought that Schaeffer's change of attitude had to do with the unlawful break-in and violation of privacy. "Look, I understand it's not exactly the best thing to do, but the team often finds clues to a patient's disease from examining his home or work. I hope…." Cuddy's explanation was cut off.

"I don't know why my mother has to keep all that crap. I have tried to talk reason with her, but it's like talking to a wall," Schaeffer's words rushed out.

Cuddy was surprised. Schaeffer was actually embarrassed by her mother, well at least her mother's living habits. Cuddy herself couldn't understand how anyone could live that way, but according to Taub and Chase the place, although filled to the ceiling with seemingly useless things, was extremely clean and tidy. She began to speak but Schaeffer spoke again.

"She's been doing this my whole life. It started when her parents died. My father left us because of it. I thought once I moved her out and into a smaller home she'd stop. You would have thought I cut her legs off when I refused to move all the garbage with her to the new place." Schaeffer sighed in disgust and frustration. Then she looked at Cuddy. She suddenly seemed embarrassed for sharing so much with Cuddy. She shook her head. "So what has the team discovered so far?" she asked, trying to change the subject.

Cuddy was fascinated. She never thought Schaeffer would be the type to be so closed minded, especially with her own mother. Heaven knows I am polar opposites of my own mother, Cuddy thought, but I still love her. I'm still proud of who she it.

"Beth, I'm sorry for the invasion of privacy, but it did reveal that despite the….things in your mom's house, it's free of toxins, molds, and any other harmful environmental causes," Cuddy said softly. "Everything was very organized at her home. We had no problem getting the swabs or information."

"Did you try to get into the second bedroom?" Schaeffer said, almost harshly. "That room hasn't seen the light of day for eight years."

"Does your mom have any animals or a basement in the house we didn't see?"

Schaeffer shook her head.

"Then I feel fine in saying that her problems are not environmental. Her obsession is not causing her illness."

"No, that would be too easy a fix, wouldn't it?" Schaeffer said. "She'd have to clean out her house if that was the problem, but no, I'm not that lucky," she muttered.

Cuddy took a moment to let the situation diffuse. "Let's wait for the other test results and then I'll make sure House visits you and your mother personally first thing in the morning. Okay?"

Schaeffer had gone quiet. She looked at Cuddy and just nodded, all the bluster blown away by her embarrassment that her secret had been found out. She sighed again. "Thank you, Lisa. I just… You know. Parents. They're never what you thought they were."

Cuddy's thought immediately turned inward toward her own feelings of inadequacy. She nodded in reply.

Schaeffer's own comment seemed to jar a memory for her. "Oh, didn't you adopt a baby?" she asked. "I thought I heard that through the grapevine."

Cuddy smiled. "Yes, her name is Rachel. She's almost three."

"That's wonderful. I don't know how you do it. I couldn't even keep my marriage together with this job we have. Taking care of a baby must be overwhelming."

Cuddy didn't think Schaeffer was being intentional derogatory, but she still felt the sting of the innocent comment. "Yes, it's hard. I've had to make adjustments."

Schaeffer nodded and gave a quiet chuckle. "I don't doubt it. I'm surprised you don't have a crib and a box of toys here just so you could see your daughter." Her face grew solemn. "I know if I ever had the chance to raise a kid I'd definitely put her needs ahead of accumulating stuff. Things." Schaeffer had only been speaking on her own childhood and about her own experience but seeing the look on Cuddy's face made her realize she had hit a nerve. She tried to make amends. "Just from my own experience, Lisa. Not you….. I'm sure that you….. That you're a great mom. And the hospital is very well run. Really."

Cuddy nodded. "I know, Beth. No offense taken. Really. In fact, I need to be getting home so…." She stood and came around the desk. "I know you're worried about your mom. I know you want answers now. We'll do our best to find those answers, okay?" She placed a reassuring hand on Schaeffer's shoulder.

Schaeffer nodded. "Thank you," she said again.

At that moment Cuddy's office door burst open and without even turning Cuddy knew who it was. Only one person in the world felt like he could enter her office without knocking. Cuddy looked up to see House striding toward her. She quickly flashed her back off look and grabbed Dr. Schaeffer's arm to help her stand. "The nurses can set up a bed in your mom's room if you want or the hospital has a discounted rate at the Marriott down the street. I can have the nurse call for you."

Hearing Cuddy, House realized who she was talking too. He knew Cuddy wouldn't want him to say anything rude or insulting and really he couldn't always promise that unless he said nothing at all. He made a beeline towards the couch to wait out the rest of the conversation. It looked almost done anyway. He picked up one of the travel magazines on Cuddy's side table.

Schaeffer stood. "I already arranged for the nurses to set up a bed in my mother's room," she said to Cuddy. She then turned toward the man who had just entered the room. "Doctor House, so nice to finally meet you."

Cuddy silently willed House to be polite.

House took a moment to answer, which did nothing for Cuddy's anxiousness. He wasn't going to say anything, but it would be rude not to answer Dr. Schaeffer, wouldn't it?

"Likewise," House finally said, not bothering to get up or even look at Schaeffer. "I've always wanted to meet the one who handed Foreman's balls to him even though he saved your patient's life." He finally looked up at Schaeffer, seemingly examining her soul with his clear blue eyes. "I guess Foreman should have let the girl die. At least your rules and regulations would have been met."

Schaeffer's body stiffened for a brief second, but her experience and skill as a hospital administrator kicked in. "Rules and regulations are there for a reason. The next time Foreman pulled a stunt like that he may have been wrong."

"Or he may have been right. Again."

Cuddy walked over to Schaeffer. "Come on, Beth. You need some rest. It's been a stressful day."

Schaeffer stared at House again. "I will put up with you House, but only because I need you to diagnose my mother."

"Understood," House said, nodding. He returned the magazine to the table and leaned back against the couch, putting his hands behind his head and linking his fingers. He smiled. "I bet you won't put up with as much as you think you will. Even for your mother's sake."

Cuddy all but shoved Schaeffer out the door, bidding her a good night again. She turned toward House, but there was no anger or frustration in her expression. She came over and sat by him on the couch. House's arm quickly encircled Cuddy's shoulders and pulled her close. He looked down at her. "What, no reprimand?"

Cuddy shook her head. "You actually stood up for one of your team."

"Trying to look for the positive?"

"Always," Cuddy replied. "It helps when I deal with you."  
House smiled. "Funny." House sobered up. He remembered the look Cuddy had when he entered the office. She might have been wearing a sign that read "Horribly inadequate at everything." He subconsciously began rubbing Cuddy's bare arm. Cuddy loved it when he did this. She didn't even think he was aware of it and it had a power to soothe her like nothing else.

"So what did the good doctor say?" House asked.

"Beth? She demanded to know why you hadn't been in to quickly give her mother your genius diagnosis yet," Cuddy said smiling.

"Sorry, I had to finish up a letter to Penthouse. I am three for three on getting published and I had to make this fourth one really shine. Can't break my streak."

"It's good to have goals," Cuddy said, laughing softly.

"So what did the good doctor say to make you feel like the failure you are definitely not?" House said softly after a moment. Cuddy turned quickly to look at her lover. She was well aware of his skill at observation, but at times it still amazed her.

Cuddy ducked her head. "She asked about Rachel. She was amazed I was able to balance everything."

House nodded. "You do."

Cuddy shook her head. "I don't."  
"Stop it."

Cuddy said nothing. House reached over with his other hand and put his fingers on Cuddy's chin. He lifted her face so that she was looking at him. "Stop it."

Cuddy's eyes misted, "Rachel is getting older and I'm spending less quality time. I should be with her more," she said in a rush. "The hospital is behind on some accreditations and somebody program all the automatic voice answering systems to French. I've got to…" she didn't get to finish the sentence because House covered her mouth with his in a gentle kiss. He kissed her one more time before pulling back.

"Stop it."

Cuddy smiled and leaned back into him. She brought her hand up to his face and cupping his cheek gave him another soft kiss, followed by another and another. Cuddy rarely gave in to displays of affection at work. Especially when the blinds weren't shut and the door locked, but she needed House's comfort right now, his confidence. She began to push him down on the couch, but House stopped her.

"This modern couch of yours is much too short for proper work lovemaking," he said placing a gentle kiss on her chin. He looked over towards her desk. "I think there's more space over there."

Cuddy followed his gaze and smiled. "You're insane."

"We've done it before," House said softly.

"No, we tried to, but my roommate came home. Remember? We ended up going to your place that night," Cuddy kissed House and lingered on his lips. "That one night."

"So haven't you always wondered…." House said as he began to rise from the couch, encircling Cuddy in his arms. He kissed her again.

Cuddy laughed again. "You are insane. Besides, I have too many papers on it. I never found the first page of my winter dissertation after that by the way." She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her body against him. She kissed him more ardently.

House easily lifted Cuddy a few inches from the floor and began to make his way to her desk. "House!" she said against his neck. "We can't." She didn't do anything to stop him however.

They were at the edge of the desk. House let Cuddy slide down his body so she could stand on the floor. He let go of her and was going to sweep off her desk when the harsh buzzing of their pagers broke the hot silence. House paused and looked at Cuddy before grabbing his pager from his belt.

"Damn," House said. Cuddy looked at him, the heat in her eyes dissipating rapidly. "It's a good thing Dr. Schaeffer decided to stay in the hospital. Her mother's having a stroke."

CUT TO COMMERCIAL

I hope you all enjoyed it. I love a good review! See you soon!


	3. Chapter 3

**DISCLAIMER: My brain knows I don't own House but my heart disagrees mightily.**

**Letting Go – A House Fanisode**

**Act Three**

FADE IN

House sat at the end of the glass conference table in the diagnostics department at PPTH. He seemed totally focused on trying to get the tennis ball to spin quickly on the table top. Each effort lasted longer than the previous effort before the ball would start to skid across the smooth surface. In fact, he was listening to every word and was actually processing it more effectively by his mundane actions. The ball went for yet another spin as he listened to Taub finish the status update on their patient.

"Margaret's stroke was definitely ischemic. We gave her t-PA immediately and although she is still unconscious she should recover." Taub shrugged his shoulders. "Unless we don't ever solve the underlying problem, that is. Then it won't really matter."

"Does the sun shine much in your world, Taub?" House commented. He grabbed the tennis ball just before it careened off the edge of the table. "Any idea where the clot came from?"

"None," Foreman said. "An initial Doppler ultrasound found a very small clot in her right calf. It should be broken up by now with the t-PA. Chase took her up for a venograph and EKG. Once those are done we'll have a better idea."

"We should give her some warfarin," Masters piped up. "Just to prevent further clots."  
House glanced over at her. "Thanks."

Masters nodded happily, unaware of the sarcasm that dripped from that one single word House said.

"Ideas?" House asked. He looked at Taub. "You know, just so we didn't waste time saving her from the stroke she just had."

"Epstein-Barr," Masters suggested. She began to explain but Foreman cut her off.

"Except she's not black."

"It happens in white women as well," Masters defended. "She said she had the flu the past two weeks. She's been feeling rundown. Those are classic Epstein-Barr symptoms. So if not Epstein-Barr than some other autoimmune. Antiphospholipid Antibody Syndrome. Lupus."

"Polycythemia Vera would be a better explaination," Foreman interjected.

"But not a nicer one," Masters said.

House nodded. PV was not a happy diagnosis. He looked at Foreman. "Hold off on the heparin and check her blood for thickening in a few hours." Masters began to open her mouth to again defend her idea. House turned his attention to her. "And you can draw some more blood to check your autoimmune theories." Masters responded with a satisfied smile. "Taub, you get to babysit the med student. Maybe some of her positive healing attitude will rub off on you."

Taub hung his head and said nothing. He began to gather up the files. Foreman had stood to also leave when Wilson came bursting through the open door. His eyes went immediately to House, who still sat at the far end of the table. Wilson did not look happy.

"House!" he yelled. "You need to stop your diabolical pranking attacks!" In explanation he held up his arms. It was clearly evident of what he was upset about. The sleeves on his medical coat had been cut off and hemmed about six inches from his wrists; the bright white of the coat fabric contrasting vividly with the dark blue of his shirt sleeves.

Wilson expected to hear a round of laughter, but the room was silent. Instead, Foreman, Taub and Masters all held up their arms. Each of the six sleeves he saw had been shortened as well.

"We were short-sheeted, too," Foreman said dully.

House turned to Foreman with a serious expression. "I don't know which is more surprising: that someone was able to get all of you with the same prank or that Foreman knows what short-sheeting is." He held Foreman's unamusing gaze before turning back to Wilson.

"It's not me," House said. "Why does everyone keep accusing me?"

Wilson held up his arms again. "If the sleeve fits…," his voice trailed off as his eyes conveyed the accusatory message.

"It's not me!" House again insisted.

"I heard the pens and pencils in the clinic keep disappearing," Taub said. "This morning every single pen and pencil that had been taken was returned. It covered the entire desk."  
House shook his head. "See that's proof," he said confidently. "Those kind of stunts are beneath me. That's the kind of school boy prank Kutner would have pulled but seeing as how ghosts usually keep with the chains and howling I doubt that's likely."

The other men in the room each glared at House at the flippant remark he had made about their dead friend. Did House's breeches of decorum know no bounds?

House shook his head. "Oh, come on, don't get offended. Kutner would be quite happy I accused him of these tricks; dead or alive." House then grew quiet. He looked down at the table and said softly, "Kutner loved those type of things. Stupid things."

Masters just looked around the table. She had lost the meaning of the conversation at the mention of the probable prankster. She looked over at Taub, who met her eyes with a sad stare. He barely shook his head then looked away. She didn't pursue it. She'd find out from someone else later. She felt the regret and sadness in the room and even she was not the best in perceiving other people's emotions.

Wilson shook his head. "Then who's the prankster?" he asked.

"I want to know too!" Cuddy's voice rang out from the door way. She strode into the office. She was holding a piece of yellow cardstock firmly in her right fist. "It's not you?" she said, looking straight down at House.

"NO!" House said emphatically. "I admit I am no respecter of persons when it comes to punking, but these are beneath my talents."

Cuddy held up the sheet so everyone could see it. Across the top they could easily read, "Human Resources Mandatory Benefits Meeting. 8AM. Lecture Hall B." A name and phone number and some other text was typed along the bottom. Cuddy lowered the paper and read it.

"Human Resources Mandatory Benefits Meeting. 8AM. Lecture Hall B. Your benefits will be changing. Find out how this affects you. If you cannot attend, cannot find instructor or have any questions please call Earnest Griffin with the HR department for further instructions." Cuddy looked up at House. He was smiling already anticipating what was coming next. "There is no meeting. There never was one scheduled. Hundreds of employees showed up in Lecture Hall B at 8am this morning. The same time as Dr. Randall's class on infectious diseases. There was a shouting match. Half of them went straight to Griffin in HR. The other half got out their phones and called him. After an hour Griffin left the hospital."

House chuckled outright at the new information. "Okay, that does sound like a prank I might pull: smart; creative; long-lasting. But I didn't do it."

"Find out who did!" Cuddy demanded. "Quickly!"

"Did you want me to still save my patient's life or should I give your request top priority?" House asked, an innocent smiled played across his lips.

Cuddy glared at him then looked at Wilson. "Help him find the prankster," she said to Wilson.

Wilson shook his head. "No way," he said, waving off the request with his shortened sleeved arms. "I have to make rounds in the peds oncology unit right now." He looked again at his arms. "Who knows? Maybe this will bring a chuckle to the kids."

"Shine on, Mr. Sunny Side!" House called out as Wilson walked out of the room.

Cuddy returned her gaze to House. "Send your doctors off to prove or disprove whatever diagnosis you all just came up with and then go find that practical joker."

"It might cost you," House said, his eyes darkening and his smile spreading so that everyone in the room knew the price he was referring too.

"Find him or her," Cuddy said, ignoring House's last statement. She looked at House's team. "If any of you see anything fishy tell me right away." She saw the quizzical looks of House's team members. "If you don't it may cost you." Her last statement did not include the same look House had given Cuddy. Cuddy's look clearly explained that the cost she spoke of would not be fun at all.

Cuddy turned and walked out of the diagnostic department. She watched through the glass as House dismissed his team. She was passed the windows before she could see what House then did. She hoped he would do a little research. That man had connections everywhere in this hospital. At times, he had so much inside information she was sure he had the place wired with cameras. She did not need this extra headache. The pranks had been going for three days now. They were non-stop and although had caused no damage to anyone or hospital property, they were certainly disrupting the order of things. She had had to come in early this morning to make sure the phones operating systems had been switched back to English only to find the entire Clinic desk covered with pens and pencils. However, every paper clip and stapler was missing. She heard her blackberry buzz and pulled it out of her coat pocket. It was her assistant reminding her of the board meeting in 45 minutes. He also said that the rest of the HR department was threatening to go home. She told the assistant to quickly make up and distribute flyers explaining the prank on HR. She hung up even more exasperated.

She had reached the elevator and pushed the button, waiting impatiently for the elevator to arrive. She heard the chime of its arrival and watched as the doors opened. She was surprised to see Dr. Beth Schaeffer standing there. Schaeffer began to step off the elevator when she saw Cuddy. She stopped in mid-stride.

"Beth," Cuddy said.

"Hello, Lisa," Schaeffer said abruptly. "I need to speak with Dr. House. Could you direct me to his office, please?"

"He hasn't come by to see you?" Cuddy asked, already knowing the answer.

"No," Schaeffer responded. "I guess he hasn't found the time to actually visit his patient yet. I don't know why you allow this behavior."

Cuddy bristled at the comment, but held her tongue. "I'm sorry he hasn't come down, but I assure you he is well-aware of every detail of your mother's case. In fact, I was with him and his team a few moments ago and they have a couple new theories to evaluate. He is by no means ignoring you."

"I think I will just go talk to him myself," Schaeffer said. She tried to sidestep passed Cuddy.

Cuddy moved out of the way but said, "He's not there now. He's gone down to Radiology to view the test results of your mother's venograph." Cuddy stepped into the elevator. "Radiology is in the basement. I can take you there now if you'd like." She held onto the elevator door to keep it from closing. Schaeffer stood in the hallway, undecided. "Or you can wait in his office, but I have no idea when he'll be back." Cuddy looked softly at Schaeffer. "Come on. Let me take you back to your mother's room. She'll be back from radiology by now. Or should we go to the cafeteria? Have you eaten anything today?"

Schaeffer's hard exterior cracked just a bit at Cuddy's kindness. Schaeffer shook her head. "I need to talk to Dr. House. I need to know what's going on," Schaeffer's voice cracked a bit. "I need to know what's going to happen." She lowered her eyes. Cuddy stepped out of the elevator and gently pulled Schaeffer into the elevator. She allowed Cuddy to do it.

"Beth," Cuddy said as the doors closed. "You have to let House work. His methods are different and often unstable, but he's the best at what he does, which is why you brought your mother her." Schaeffer nodded. "I know it's hard to be tough all the time; to be the one in charge. You need to just focus on your mom. We'll get her well." Schaeffer looked at Cuddy. If there was anyone who understood it would be Cuddy.

"I could use a sandwich," Schaeffer finally said.

"Great," Cuddy said. "I hear they have fresh croissants today. I'll take you down."

Schaeffer nodded her thanks and they rode the rest of the way in silence.

Foreman checked Margaret's IV line again. Chase had just brought her back from radiology. The venograph had shown a few small clots, but not much else. Still, Foreman was hesitant to give any more warfarin. His blood tests had shown that although her blood seemed a bit thicker than normal it certainly didn't indicate PK. Masters still had a few tests to run but it seemed that this wasn't autoimmune either. This lack of direction and continual guesswork was the worst part of the job for Foreman and if the payoff of finally solving the puzzle and helping the patient wasn't so great he would have gone back to neurology long ago.

He marked in Margaret's chart her vitals and then stood and stared at his patient. His mind raced through string after string of cause and effect scenarios trying to come up with one that fit best. He didn't hear Dr. Schaeffer enter the room.

Schaeffer had eaten a quick lunch in the cafeteria after Cuddy had shown her where it was. She felt like she had more strength now, but was still a bit shaken by all that had happened. She saw Foreman standing there, diagnosing her mother. She knew he was a good doctor. That's why she had hired him three years ago to run her own diagnostic department. But he was reckless with the rules; with the patients. He put his gut reaction ahead of protocol and unlike Cuddy, Schaeffer didn't have an "Ask questions later" approach to management. In her mind, Schaeffer had done the only thing she could have. She had never doubted her decision.

"Dr. Foreman," Schaeffer said. "I was wondering when you'd make your way down to my mother's room."  
Foreman whipped his head toward the sound of Schaeffer's voice. He was startled to see her. He hadn't meant to avoid her; at least he didn't think he had.

"Dr. Schaeffer," Foreman said. "How are you?" He quickly realized the absurdity of the question. "I mean, hello. I'm sorry about your mother. We're doing all we can to find out what the problem is."

Schaeffer made her way over to the bed. She looked at Foreman. "So you think there is a problem?" she asked. Foreman nodded. "Well, at least I can say I told you so," she said, looking down at her mom. There was an awkward silence; the clouds of things unsaid hovered in the room. She looked back at Foreman. "So you were able to come back to PPTH? I thought that was the last thing you wanted."

"It was the only job I could get after….," Foreman said honestly. "Things work differently here."

"Don't I know it," Schaeffer said offhandedly. "Even I was hesitant to hire you initially."

"I supposed I validated that hesitancy," Foreman said. He didn't sound malicious in his intent, just resigned.

"Well," was all Schaeffer could say.

"Who's head of the department now?" Foreman asked.

"Dr. Crandall," she replied.

Foreman nodded. "He's a good doctor. I'm sure he's doing great."

Schaeffer thought a moment and then shrugged. "Yes. And he's safe."

Foreman had no idea how to respond. Instead he decided to let Schaeffer know what they were testing for. Schaeffer thought the idea of an autoimmune disease fit better but reminded Foreman that her own team had tested for that.

"There are some that are hard to test for," was all Foreman said. When he mentioned his theory on PK, Schaeffer visibly blanched. The prognosis was not good and the fact that there were already some small clots in her body increased the worry. Foreman felt odd reassuring her that they were still waiting on results and that a final diagnosis couldn't be made just yet. Right now, her mother's condition was stable. Foreman then mentioned that they had definitely ruled out toxins, mold or other environmental causes.

Schaeffer's face reddened slightly. "Were you one of the doctors that went to my mother's home?"

"No," Foreman said, understanding her question. Schaeffer was obviously embarrassed about her mother's hoarding tendancies. There was a long silence. He felt awkward to get this personal with his former boss but he would have said the next statement to any of his other patient's family members. "Once we address your mother's physical issues we can then find some therapy for her obsessive compulsive disorders. We can do it on an outpatient even."

Schaeffer laughed bitterly. "You don't think I've tried therapy? I've tried everything. I even moved her to a new smaller home in a different city and it didn't help." She looked back at her mother. "She hasn't always had OCD. She was an only child. Rather spoiled I think. Throwing out an old toy as it broke. Receiving a brand new one immediately. She married my dad, but they bought a home near her parents. There wasn't as much money. Her parents helped us all the time with food and gifts. When I was five her parents were killed in a car accident. It was horrific. They bled to death due to a lack of the right type of blood. She has donated blood regularly since then as a tribute. They were gone and suddenly so was her safe world. That's when it started. I remember coming home from second grade one day and finding a few bags of canned goods from the discount grocery. She was sorting them and labeling them, putting them away in case we needed them." Schaeffer absentmindedly rubbed her mom's arm. "It just got worse. Everything was always organized and clean. I never went hungry. Never got sick or neglected. But it became too much for dad and he left. That of course made things worse."

Foreman looked at Schaeffer with new eyes. "Your mother had a definite experience that we can trace the OCD to. That will make therapy that much more effective."

"It's easy for us to say that, but that woman," she pointed to her mother, still not awake from the effects of her stroke. "will refuse to change. She would rather risk losing her relationship with her own daughter than clean up her house and throw crap out."

Foreman nodded and left Schaeffer standing next to her mother's bed. He had nothing to say. Especially since there was no point in bringing up the fact that Schaeffer was just as unwilling to change as her mother was. Contrary to popular belief, Foreman hadn't been that tainted by House.

Wilson had been able to find another white lab coat while his was being repaired. At least the prankster had been nice and not cut the sleeve off entirely. One quick stitch around the sleeve had securely shortened it without the need for removing it. If he ever found out whom the culprit was he would be sure to thank him for that.

Wilson folded up the last patient file and began to organize them into a tidy little stack. He shifted them just a bit so that they were evenly placed next to the stack of letters.

"Careful," came a voice from the doorway. "That's the first step on the path to total OCD."

Wilson looked up to see House entering his office. Wilson nodded his greeting. "Yes, I'm aware of that. It was good for me when we lived together because there was no way I could keep things tidy."

House closed the door then sat on the chair across from his best friend. "Just doing my part. Sam took over though." He looked at Wilson for his reaction. Sam had been gone over a month now. House kept testing Wilson, kept taunting him, trying to gauge how long they had till Wilson broke down again at her departure. But as always, Wilson surprised House. He hadn't even cracked yet. He was sad Sam had left, but not heartbroken. He had tried to talk to her but she was ignoring him. This time, however, Wilson seemed to not be taking it so personally. Yep, House thought, Wilson is never boring. "Oh, but wait, you're free to make tidy little piles now and arrange your dishwasher just so."

Wilson didn't rise to the bait. He just smiled. "I'll just invite you and your cute little family over every so often. Between you and Rachel the house should be in chaos again in no time."

"Funny," House said.

"How's your patient?" Wilson finally asked. "What grand diagnosis is your team working on now?"

"One for autoimmune. One for Polycythemia Vera. And one who will do whatever test in necessary so he can trawl the hallways for other horny fish in the sea," House said, lifting his bad leg up onto Wilson's desk. He rubbed it subconsciously, hoping that maybe this time it would help with the pain. Wilson could see House's thinking face as he gazed up at the ceiling.

Wilson nodded. "PK would be bad. Plus the same symptoms for PK could mean it's cancers: leukemia, lymphoma, maybe…"

House cut him off. "Yeah, I'm going down that road too. I'll let you know." He continued to stare off into space.

"So what may I help you with today?" Wilson asked politely.

House brought his legs down, sat forward in his chair and earnestly looked at Wilson. "How do I get Cuddy to have sex with me on her office desk?"

Wilson was very accustomed to extremely random statements and questions from his oldest friend, but even this one threw him a little. He blinked once. Then he blinked again. "Well, I don't know the answer to this one off hand, so I'll have to consult my "Wildly Inappropriate Office Sexual Protocol Manual" and get back to you on that one." He shook his head. "Do I want to ask why?"

House shrugged and traced imaginary lines on Wilson's desktop. "It's on my list of tasks to complete and I think the window of spontaneous sexual encounters in quickly closing."

Wilson said nothing. He waited for House to continue. House never said anything so random without having a point behind it.

After a minute House did continue, "Cuddy and I met in college."

Wilson nodded. He knew this and some general details but had never heard the whole story. He felt he was going to get it now.

"I thought I had hunted her down at this big dance but in truth she had been stalking me since the beginning of the semester." House smiled at the thought that Cuddy even as a college undergrad had always been one of the only people in the world to get one past House. "We danced. We drank. We stumbled back to her apartment just off campus. It didn't take either one of our IQ's to figure out what we wanted to happen. We barely made it into her front room before we were going at it. I pushed all the stuff off of her desk, the one she has now in her office, and was taking her to it. She laughed and said it was like some Penthouse letter." House laughed. "That made me all the more interested in her. Just then her roommate and about 15 of her closest friends charged into the apartment." House finally made eye contact with Wilson. "I was not polite to her roommate. But Cuddy diffused the situation."

"So she's been doing that for a while for you, too," Wilson said, smiling.

"Why do you think she's so good at it? Practice," House said, returning the smile. He continued with his story. "Cuddy grabbed my hand and just told me to take her to my place. I did. When I woke up the next morning Cuddy was already gone, but she left a note that said, "Next time we'll do the Penthouse letter." I fully intended to call her and take her up on that offer." House paused. "I intended to make sure I'd always have that offer. But then I got called into the dean's office and I left."

"You never called her?" Wilson asked. He shook his head at House's continual string of bad luck. It seemed as though the universe had something against House at times.

"No, didn't seem fair," House said.

"So that desk has become the Holy Grail. It became the symbol of what you lost with Cuddy all those years ago and when you gave it to her you were hoping to take up where you had to end it," Wilson surmised.

"It's a good thing I have you to explain my feelings to me," House said.

"You're welcome. But it shouldn't even bother you anymore," Wilson said. "You two are together now. You have that relationship you wanted."

House shrugged. "I just want the Penthouse Letter."

Wilson sat back in his chair as a knowing grin crossed his mouth. "No, you don't. Well, you don't just want the letter. You want to recreate that moment where you were willing and able to commit to her for the rest of your life. You're too gunshy now to make any type of commitment. You weren't then. You want to ask her to marry you!"

House jerked up in his chair. "No way! Your "Intention Interpretation Monitor" is way off on this one." He closed his eyes and sighed. "I don't want to do that. Not yet. I just want that….feeling that I could."

This time is was Wilson who sighed. "My, my Dr. House, you are quite the romantic."

"Shut up," House stood up and started to walk out. "As usual you've been no help for practical purposes."

"Now, wait a minute," Wilson said. "Just ask her. Or tell her what you just told me."

"I asked her. She's too professional now. I guess we've both changed."

Wilson didn't doubt House had somehow insinuated what he wanted to do, but he was certain House didn't and wouldn't tell Cuddy the whole story. "Okay then, get her drunk again."

House stopped with his hand on the doorknob. "Now that's some useful advice. Finally." He nodded at Wilson then opened the door and left.

Wilson looked after him. "Good luck, House." He said quietly as his door closed.

Taub and Masters sat across from each other in the pathology lab. Masters had her face up to a microscope, studying the slide underneath. Taub worked methodically squirting just a few drops of the patient's blood into trays of vials. Each vial containing the elements that would possibly react with Margaret's blood and give them the answer. Masters let out a loud sigh of digust.

"It's not Addison's," she said. "Or Bergers, Bichets or Blau."

"That sounds like a law firm," Taub said.

"We're only in the "B"s," Masters said frustratingly.

"I didn't know we were doing this alphabetically," Taub said as he continued his systematic work.

"It seemed the most logical and organized way to test for all the autoimmune diseases," Master said as she changed the slides.

Taub froze in his routine. "ALL of the autoimmune diseases?" he said. "I don't think I've ever wanted the patient's condition to change so soon until now."

Masters looked confused. She had no idea she had just offhandedly informed Taub that they would be working late into the night. Taub shook his head and started dropping blood in vials again.

There was an easy silence. Then Masters slowly pulled back from her microscope. She looked at Taub. "Who is Kutner?"

Taub hesitated a microsecond on releasing the drop of blood before continuing on as though the question had never been asked. He finished the row then looked up at Masters. "He was a member of the team."

"Did he die?" Masters asked innocently.

"He killed himself," Taub said coldly. Masters was visibly shaken by Taub's lack of emotion. He told himself to be kind. "We were hired at the same time. Almost exactly three years ago. He shot himself two years later. 13 and Foreman found the body."

This time an uneasy silence filled the lab. Masters just sat there and stared at Taub, who eventually looked away. "And no, we didn't have any warning signs."

"I wasn't even going to ask that," Masters said quietly. Taub looked up again at Masters and saw that she meant it. "I'm sorry. It must have been very hard."  
Taub sat for a still moment before nodding. "Yes, he was my friend."

They held each other's gaze for a long time. Taub eventually smiled softly. "Let's get back to work. We've got ALL the autoimmune disorders to test for."

Masters nodded. She began to change out her slide again when her phone beeped. She grabbed it off the counter and looked at it. "Looks like you got your wish, Dr. Taub, our clients kidneys are failing. She doesn't have an autoimmune disease."

They both dropped their equipment and peeled off their gloves then raced up to the patient's room. It was still going to be a long night.

FADE OUT

I'll get the next act posted quickly. I've got 3 more and only 2 ½ weeks til House returns! Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I don't own House. I just own a burning desire to follow Hugh Laurie around the set and fetching whatever he needs or wants. Forever.**

"**Letting Go – A Winter Fanisode"**

**Act Four**

**FADE IN**

Wilson looked closely at the small freckle on the left shoulder of the patient in Exam Room 2. He took extra time to make sure it wasn't cancerous. This was a consult, after all and he needed to be 100% sure so that his hospital would be well represented.

"It looks like it's just a freckle," Wilson said somewhat cautiously. "Probably from too much sun." He looked along the patient's back to her other shoulder and down her spine. There were a few more freckles, but Wilson was mostly examining the soft tanned skin. He quickly glanced downward to check the patient's lower back, his eyes widening when he noticed the thin red line of the thong. The thong gave him ample opportunity to see all he needed to see. Embarassed, he brought his eyes back up to the small freckle on her shoulder. "You probably should wear a stronger sunscreen or don't go in the sun at all."

His patient giggled. "I know, I should be more careful," the patient said, "but a tan looks better under those bright stage lights. The guys tip better if you have a tan." The patient looked over her shoulder at Wilson, trying to catch his eye. She flipped a lock of blond hair away from her face.

"I don't doubt it," Wilson said, his voice catching as his eyes met the patient's.

"See, that's a real business woman," came House's voice from in front of the patient. "Always thinking of the…bottom line." House was leaning against the far wall, watching his fellow doctor conduct his consult. He had already had his turn checking her lovely body for any more suspicious freckles, but he had thought it necessary to call in an oncologist for a consult. Just in case.

The blond patient turned her attention to House. "Yeah, right. That's what I tell the other girls at the club. You need to do what you can to bring in the cash," she said. She nodded emphatically. "That's why I got the boob job. I consider it an investment. An investment in me!"

"I think the Plastic Surgeons of America just got their new motto!" House said triumphantly. The patient smiled at House, who congenially returned the smile.

Wilson came around to the front of the exam table to talk to the patient. He smiled calmly. "Well, it looks like you just have some freckles, most likely caused by the sun, but you should watch them. You were smart to come in to have it checked out."

"I agree," House said quietly.

Wilson ignored him.

"Oh, that's awesome," said the patient. "I was so worried I'd have to give up my job. I do enjoy it."

"I'm sure you do," Wilson said.

House cleared his throat. "Oh, wait, Candy, you didn't let Dr. Wilson exam the other freckle you came in to have checked out."

Candy opened her mouth is surprise. "Oh, my goodness, you didn't, Dr. There's another freckle I'm worried about right above my bellybutton," she said and quickly released the hold on the hospital gown she had been clutching to her chest. The gown dropped down onto the ground, fully revealing to Wilson and House Candy's … investments.

Wilson just stared as House's smile increased megafold.

"Wow," Wilson said quietly. "That was a very good investment, Candy, very good."

Candy smiled proudly.

Ten minutes later Wilson and House came out of exam room 2, both wearing small smiles. They stood for a moment out in front of the door. Candy was still inside, putting her clothing back on. The exam on the stomach freckle had revealed only another innocent freckle, but Candy assured Wilson and House that she would come back to the hospital if the freckles changed so they could check them out. Or, she had said, they could come by her work and check them out on a more regular basis. Wilson still held the flier Candy had handed him from her purse.

Wilson looked down at the flier. It was for a strip club called "Jugz." Candy's picture was front and center. Wilson shook his head.

"Merry Christmas, Wilson," House said, laughing. He held onto the patient chart. He had known immediately that Candy's freckles were nothing serious, but had also known immediately that his lonely friend could use a picker-upper in his boring morning. Candy had been only too willing to wait for a consult. Just to be safe.

Wilson again shook his head. "You are unbelievable," said the professional Dr. Wilson, then the buddy Wilson laughed. "And thanks."

House looked at the flier Wilson was holding. "Maybe you should go check in on Candy," he said. "You do have some free time these days." House looked closely at Wilson to catch his reaction.

Wilson just shrugged. "Maybe," he said.

House was pleased. Wilson hadn't committed to it, but he also hadn't completely dismissed it. It was a new development in Wilson's personality since Sam left him. He didn't seem so bottled up and cautious anymore. Sure, he had been devastated when Sam left, but Wilson also seemed to be easily accepting the change. And although it was subtle, Wilson was showing a lot more flexibility in his attitude and manner. Wilson, it appeared, had given up on brooding. House liked this a lot.

"You could come," Wilson said.

"Not likely," House said, "I'm still trying to wipe the whole prostitute massage thing off my record. But give me a month or two and I might be able to go with you."

"Go with you where?"

Both House and Wilson turned towards the sound of Cuddy's voice. She was standing at the nurse's station. House was sure she hadn't been there the whole time. Maybe. He gave Cuddy a smile. Wilson quickly stuffed the flier into his pocket. Wilson had maybe given up brooding and second-guessing but his ability to look totally guilty at any given moment would always haunt him. He was able to muster up his own smile but couldn't hold Cuddy's gaze.

"To a strip club," House said matter-of-factly. "There's a new one Wilson wants to check out."

Wilson's face went white followed by a bright shade of red. It was quite a site.

Cuddy laughed. "Very funny. You're almost as funny as our prankster," she said as she walked over. Her face negated her words. She obviously did not think it was funny. "I need you to go visit Margaret Pettigrew immediately."

At that moment the door to exam room 2 opened and Candy, now fully dressed, well at least as fully dressed as when she had came to the clinic, walked out. She had her coat and purse over her arm. She stopped and smiled when she saw her two doctors still in the hallway.

"Oh, thanks again, doctors," she said to House and Wilson. "I feel so much better knowing all those freckles were just freckles. Whew!"

Cuddy took a look at the peaches and cream complexion of Candy and realized immediately that those just freckles were located in places not so easily seen. Cuddy looked with dagger eyes at House and Wilson. She took a couple of steps back as Candy walked through the middle of House and Wilson. She squeezed their arms as she brushed past them then turned toward Wilson. "Don't forget that our Happy Hour is all day on Thursdays," she said softly. She smiled, then turned and left the clinic.

All three watched her leave. Cuddy then turned back to House and Wilson, neither of whom made eye contact with her. When House finally looked at Cuddy he couldn't help but smile at her anger. He hoped she was mad at him more on the professional level then the personal one. He decided to try to throw some blame. "I had to call Dr. Wilson in because I didn't feel qualified or comfortable to examine and diagnose certain freckles."

Wilson shot a look at House. House had taken his turn too checking out those freckles. Traitor! Wilson looked back at Cuddy. He felt the need to explain. "The patient had a real concern. The freckles could have been melanoma related." Wilson paused. "They were definitely sun related." He turned to House. "She definitely has had too much sun. Everywhere."

House almost laughed. "Definitely," he agreed.

Cuddy stared them down as she weighed the options of anger and discipline. Quickly realizing that repainting the leopards' spots would be a bigger task then she had time for right now, she decided to go with basic punishment. "Four more clinic hours for each of you," she said. She waited for their nods of acceptance then continued on with her reason for seeking House out. "I need you to go see Dr. Schaeffer's mother. Now."

House sighed. Not this again. "Look, I am completely on top of things. I know what her last vitals were. I know what the latest test results indicated. Hell, I know what she ordered for breakfast."

Wilson raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

House shrugged. "Denver omelet. Go check the chart."

Cuddy shook her head. Dealing with these two grown men was oft times more difficult and headache-inducing then dealing with her preschooler at home. "Look, I know you know, but Dr. Schaeffer wants to see you physically in the room. She's not used to your 'in the clouds, omniscient approach to doctoring.' She needs to see you in the room to know you're doing your job. All she sees are the treatments that aren't working for diagnoses that are not right."

"We all are doing our jobs," House said, quickly defending his team. "You know the process."

Cuddy stepped towards House. "Yes, **I** know the process, but I need you change the process, just a bit. Just for now." She laid her hand on House's arm.

House looked at her hand, realizing he was getting manipulated. He shook his head, "It's a slippery slope, Cuddy. It starts with this one patient and then before you know it I actually have to start personally meeting and treating all my patients myself."

"Slippery slope," Wilson said quietly.

Cuddy glared at Wilson. He shrank back. Cuddy turned her glare to House. "Visit Margaret Pettigrew by lunchtime."

The two stared at each other in silent battle. House thought of swapping this favor for his desk fantasy, yet he didn't want that fantasy fulfilled on a bet. But agreeing to do this for her might grease the skids later when he approached her again.

Finally, House nodded. "Fine, I'll go right now," he said.

Cuddy softly smiled and nodded. "Thank you. But you have two more hours in the clinic. You can go up when you finish your shift." She squeezed his arm. "Nice try though." She flashed another smile of victory at both House and Wilson and left the clinic to complete other administrator duties.

"You should have traded her for the desk," Wilson said, smiling.

"I thought about it, but," House replied.

"Not the right way to mark off that task," Wilson said, as always understanding House better than House himself often did. House nodded. He walked over to the nurse's station and put Candy's file in the "done" pile. Wilson walked up past him as he too left the clinic. He turned back towards House just before stepping out the door. "How 'bout two Thursdays from now?" he called out.

House smiled. "I'll drive."

Both men laughed as they went back to work.

Taub sat reading last month's People magazine in the dialysis room at PPTH. He had come to pick up Margaret, who due to her kidneys shutting down had required immediate dialysis. Taub had arrived just a bit early and now sat waiting for her to complete this cycle. If they didn't figure out just what was wrong Margaret's future held many more of these visits to dialysis. If she lived through it.

"My daughter told me you were one of the doctors that went to my house."  
Taub was startled to hear Margaret's voice. He dropped the magazine to find Margaret looking at him from her propped up stretcher, the dialysis machine churning away beside her. She had been asleep when Taub arrived, or so he had thought.

He set the magazine back on the table. "Yes, Dr. Chase and I went to check for toxins, mold, that kind of stuff," Taub said. He looked sincere when he then said, "I'm sorry for not asking you for permission. It's just something we need to do."

Margaret nodded. "I understand. I just," she hesitated. "I'm sorry for the condition you found my home in." She looked away, embarrassed.

Taub shook his head, "No, it was very clean." He smiled at Margaret's shocked expression. In his years of doing this job he had seen some very nasty apartments and bizarre behavior. He had decided that if it wasn't hurting anyone he didn't care what his patients lives were like. "Yes, I've been in worse. Even with all the boxes."

Margaret looked grateful. She spoke quietly. "My daughter thinks I'm senile. She's so embarrassed by all the….stuff." Taub nodded. Margaret took Taub's indifference as understanding and felt safe to talk further. "My parents died and I couldn't find certain papers, some personal things right away. When I did find them I needed to keep them in safe places. I had never had to worry about it. My parents took care of everything," she paused. He voice was quieter when she spoke again. "You never know when you'll need something. Things get lost so quickly. People leave so quickly." She turned away and pretended to study the far wall of the room before turning back to Taub. Her eyes were glistening with unshed tears. "After you lose something you should hold onto things more carefully. Right?"

Taub saw the nurse coming over to shut down the machine but he took a second and placed his hand on top of Margaret's. "Right. You should."

Margaret nodded gratefully and closed her eyes. She fell back asleep and remained that way as the nurse unhooked the machine and Taub wheeled her back to her room.

House was walking down the corridor to his dreaded meeting with his patient and her mother. He didn't _hate_ meeting patients, they just usually bored him to death. It was their medical mysteries that held his attention. Unless the patient was mentally unbalanced, House found the whole "normal process" tedious. Oh, the things he did for his woman.

He approached the room just as the click of the public address system sounded in the hallways.

"Attention all visitors. We have an urgent message for a current visitor. Would Mrs. Gopeehy, Anita Gopeehy, please return to the lobby reception desk? Anita Gopeehy, please return to the lobby reception desk. Once again. Attention: Anita Gopeehy." The speaker clicked the microphone off.

House laughed and shook his head. Cuddy wouldn't find that joke amusing either. How did she expect to track the prankster down if he had to go visit his patient? He couldn't be in two places at once, no matter what the current rumors were.

He entered the patient's room and was relieved to see only Taub there with Margaret. He was marking down her latest visit to dialysis. Dr. Schaeffer was no where to be seen.

"Awesome!" House said excitedly. This was going to be easier than he thought. Taub looked up at him. "Tell Schaeffer I was in to check on her mother." He spun on his heal and began to walk out.

He almost ran right into Dr. Schaeffer. She had asked a nurse to page her when either her mother returned or Dr. House showed up. Luckily for her, both happened at the same time.

"Dr. House," Schaeffer said, moving around him and through the doorway. She walked over to her mother's bedside. She looked at Taub, who automatically handed her the chart. House walked back into the room as Schaeffer looked through the chart. She finally looked up at House. "So what's the diagnosis now. It looks like auto-immune has been ruled out. PV also seems to be wrong."

House walked over and took the chart. Schaeffer, confident that she had actually caught House off guard, thought House was going to read through it and catch himself up to speed. Instead he closed it without even glancing it and handed it back to Taub.

"Yes, I get it, Dr. House," Schaeffer said. She looked at House with disgust. "You don't need charts or patient visits to cure people. You think you're some kind of God. In fact, the only reason you're even here is because you're sleeping with Cuddy and she has you by the short hairs." Margaret laughed as both Taub and House raised their eyebrows in surprise. "Yes, I know. I had heard rumors. First Cuddy adopted a child, as if running a hospital efficiently wasn't a high enough priority or enough to fill her time. Those two responsibilities were enough to sink anyone but then she begins a relationship with the most difficult doctor in the world, who is also her subordinate. She's either a big idiot or has the balls of giant."

"I can assure you that she most definitely does not have balls; giant or otherwise, and she is no idiot," House said calmly. He had initially decided to take the high road and not engage with Schaeffer and her obvious need to be in charge. But insulting Cuddy did not sit well with House. At least he would be polite and wait until Schaeffer was done with her tirade before he ripped her a new one. He smiled at Schaeffer.

Taub saw with experienced eyes the shift in House's demeanor and he immediately began to think of a quick escape ploy. He glanced over at Margaret who had been awakened by her daughter's angry voice. Dr. Schaeffer may be embarrassed about her mother's hoarding but it was completely obvious to Taub that Margaret was equally embarrassed about her daughter's attitude. Taub decided to stay just to make sure Margaret didn't get caught in the crossfire.

"Or maybe Cuddy's so overtaxed that she just allows deplorable behavior from all of her employees. I mean, she can't keep every ball in the air all the time. She's bound to drop one. Or two." Margaret continued on about Cuddy's lack of power and House's deplorable doctoring skills, but House tuned her out. He had already thought of three amazing insults and a follow-up personal attack when he took a quick look at Margaret. He had watched as Taub protectively made his way back to her bedside. She had looked distressed, embarrassed at her daughter's display, but she now seemed to be staring off into space. House looked over at her pulse/ox monitor. The numbers began to lower. Conversely, House saw her blood pressure rise. This could be just a reaction to her daughter's display, thought House. Then he saw Margaret seem to lose her breath.

"I don't care if you aren't even willing to make eye contact with me, House," he heard Schaeffer say. She continued tirade but ignored her and started to walk over to Margaret's bed. Taub had noticed the change in stats when he saw House looking at the monitors. Taub turned to Margaret again. He was looking when Margaret gasped for air again. Schaeffer continued her rant unaware of the distress her mother was in. "I am talking to you, Dr. House," she yelled, "don't try to pretend to be a doctor to get out of it!"

House put his fingers on Margaret's neck. "Pulse steady," he said, but it was not reassuring to him. He looked at the pulse/ox again as the numbers dipped drastically. "Taub, get a bag resuscitator."

"What is it, House?" Taub asked even as he did as House requested.

House shook his head. He took Margaret's pulse once more. This time he could barely feel it. As his arm crossed over Margaret's neck, she suddenly bolted upright and began coughing violently; blood flew everywhere, narrowly missing House's face, but completely coating his jacket sleeve. "Damn!" He jumped back. "She's throwing another clot!" he yelled at Taub. "Get a kit." House limped to the medicine cabinet and quickly punched in a code. He grabbed a syringe of heparin and went back to Margaret's bed where he injected the contents into her IV.

Schaeffer had noticed House's lack of attention earlier, but had only realized her mother's distress moments before Margaret had begun coughing up blood. Her face went white. "Mom? Oh, my gosh, mom?" She tried to get to Margaret's side, but House pushed her out of the way.

Taub raced back to the bed with an intubation kit. He ripped it open and after handing it to House, pulled Margaret's bed away from the wall. The action was accentuated by the sudden beeping of the stats monitor. Margaret gasped again and again for air then suddenly fell backwards onto the bed. House was waiting for her at the head of the bed. He grabbed ahold of her head and tried to tilt it back but couldn't get it.

"Damn, I can't get it open enough," House muttered.

"She has rheumatoid arthritis," Taub explained. "It's worse in her neck and shoulders."

"Figures," House responded. He tried again.

Schaeffer frantically looked back and forth between House and Taub. A nurse had arrived as the alarms went off and held onto Schaeffer, keeping her out of the way. Taub, forgetting that the patient's family member present was a doctor he began to explain what was going on. He soon realized he didn't need to. Just then House yelled again. "Get me a trach kit. I can't get in."

House threw the intubation equipment down and moved to the side of the bed. He looked up at Schaeffer. He saw fear and panic. "Your mother had a pulmonary embolism. She just threw a clot. I think she's going to throw another one." He turned away from her when Taub handed him the kit.

Without taking time to glove up, House opened the kit and quickly removed the scalpel. Taub had already swiped the throat with a sterile wipe. House took the sharp knife to Margaret's throat. At the first cut, more blood from the coughing spasms spurted out onto House's hands. Ignoring the mess, House continued to cut, eventually getting through the tough muscle and into the trachea. Leaving his finger in the hole, he grabbed the pipe and shoved it into Margaret's neck. Taub immediately had the resuscitation bag and connected it to the tube. He began to squeeze the bag as House grabbed Taub's stethoscope and listened to Margaret's lungs.

He stood and turned to Schaeffer. Taub was already wheeling Margaret out of the room with a nurse's help. "She's got a lot of blood in her lungs. I think she threw more than one clot. They'll take her straight up to surgery to get the rest."

Schaeffer just stood there. She had seemed to have lost all of her poison. She stared back at House with vacant eyes. House looked down at his hands. They were covered in blood. His light blue shirt sleeves where they poked out from his jacket were also soaked red and the evidence of Margaret's initial bloody coughing covered House's jacket sleeve to the elbow.

House shook his head. "And this is another reason why I never visit the patient."

FADE OUT

Act Five coming either tonight or tomorrow. Look for it. Gotta get act six out by Monday because we have NEW EPISODES of the REAL DEAL finally airing. Hooray! Thanks for reading.


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry for the HUGE delay. I miss Huddy so I wanted to finish this before they got any more spiteful on the show. And for the record…I published this story involving a hoarder back in December, 2010. It seems TPTB and I are on the same wavelength. (Oh, that were so, because Huddy would still be Huddy!)**

**Disclaimer: Still don't own House or anything related to it. But if wishes were fishes I'd have a sea full of food!**

**Letting Go – A Winter Fanisode**

**Act Five**

**FADE IN**

This time at the diagnostic table no one played with anything. The tennis balls, which just a day before been the center of attention, now sat still in the middle of the table, resting in an unused bed pan. The team sat staring at each other; at the files; at the test results; at the white board, anything but House, who sat at the end of the table pulling at his bottom lip. He looked around the people assembled in the room. His entire crew sat there, silent.

"What do I pay you people for?" House suddenly asked, breaking the silence. "Give me some ideas."

Foreman shook his head. "We've gone over all the usual suspects," he said. "Margaret presented with fatigue and flu-like symptoms. She had low blood pressure which contributed to her passing out in her home. She's throw at least 3 blood large clots that we know of and she has smaller ones hiding out in her body ready to go. We've ruled out auto-immune, toxins, mold, other environmental causes. We're fairly certain it's not PV and while you were serving time in the clinic we tested for Cushings and a few other metabolic disorders."

Taub decided to speak up if they were only going over what they already knew. "Her kidneys are down to 45% and she's still trached with 100% oxygen. Chase did find another blood clot in her lung but was able to grab it and keep her lungs out of danger. For now."

"Her lungs can't last much longer either," Chase said. "They took a pretty good beating."

House nodded. "So to sum up our patient is dying and we have no idea what is killing her."

Everyone nodded except Masters, "But at least we know what's NOT killing her," she said, hoping to be positive.

House just stared at her. Sometimes her optimism was misplaced. "Fine," he said not having the energy to cut her attitude down. At least House knew that Masters would never give up. "So what's the plan? Anyone?"

The silence resumed.

"Come on, people," House said. "What have we missed?" He stood up and grabbed his cane. His leg was getting stiff and he needed to move. "We checked her house for gross moldy, dead stuff but what about other things. She's a hoarder, right? What does she keep? Old clothes with moth balls? A safe lined with asbestos? Maybe an old nuclear reactor or two?

Chase shook his head. "Her place, while jammed pack with crap, was spotless. I know it sounds weird, but it was clean. Everything organized just so. Stacked to the ceiling, but organized."

"I looked through a few boxes and found nothing but stuff like papers and bills, photos, keepsakes. Even in her bathroom she didn't have 50 toothbrushes or 100 bottles of bleach. It was like she was just hoarding …memories."

"Real memories don't take so much space," House said absently. He paced back towards the table.

"We ruled out auto-immune but could it be an auto-immune that's caused other problems?" Masters asked.

"We ruled out autoimmune," Taub said remembering the long night he spent in the lab.

"Not exactly. She continued to get worse and showed no more symptoms of a specific autoimmune, but we treated multiple diseases so maybe we treated the autoimmune but the damage was already done," Masters explained.

House shrugged. "Depending on how long she's been misdiagnosed whatever autoimmune it is could have damaged the parts now shutting down."

"And her body is fighting it all because it hasn't let go of the initial disease markers," Foreman hypothesized. "Paranealplastic syndrome." He shrugged. "It's an idea at least."

"Wow," House said, "even her body hoards things. Taub, you and Masters go run the tests again for autoimmune. Foreman, check for paranealplastic syndrome. Chase, you get to go back to the Casa de Crap and double check that Taub didn't overlook any "Caution: Radiation" signs in that mess. Good. Go," House commanded. The team rose and left. House returned to his office to sit in his chair and rest his leg. He didn't think that Masters had come up with the final puzzle piece but his brain began churning on some more theories. He closed his eyes and was soon asleep.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXX**

He awoke to the sound of his phone ringing. He cursed his brain for reacting to it and tried to go back to sleep. It kept ringing. It would stop then begin again. After an entire minute he cursed out loud and opened his eyes. He couldn't have been asleep for more than an hour. A quick glance at his watch confirmed it was now almost 5 p.m. He slowly stood up and made his way to his desk. There in the middle of his desk was the phone: completely covered by hundreds of rubber bands wrapped around it. The receiver was trapped under an inch thick layer of rubber bands. House just hung his head and shook it in exasperation. He might have to rethink the whole Kutner ghost theory. The phone continued to ring. It was annoying.

Just then his cell phone in his pocket began to ring. It was Taub. "What."

"We decided to run her diagnosis of Rhumatoid arthritis through the computer again. She was diagnosed last year," Taub said.

"And…..," House leaded.

"It came back negative."

"Interesting," House said. "Run tests for Lupus."

"Already doing that," Taub replied. "I'll let you know. Also…," He paused. "Is that your phone ringing?"

"Yes," House responded dully.

"Do you need to answer it?" Taub asked.

"Can't," House responded.

Taub waited for five seconds. House did not offer any further explanation. Taub continued. "We also brought Sjogren's syndrome to the table. Margaret told us she recently went through menopause and has had some problems with dry eyes."

"Sounds good," House said. His office phone continued to ring. "Call me when you know." He walked over to the wall as he spoke on the phone. He pulled his desk away from the wall and looked for the phone plug. When he found it he reached over and grabbed it out of the wall with a hard jerk. The phone was finally quiet. He flipped his phone shut and threw both it and the cord onto his desk.

"Seems like somebody isn't going to send a thank you card to Alexander Graham Bell," came a voice from the doorway.

House turned around to see Dr. Schaeffer standing there. He leaned back against his desk. "Nope, and Thomas Edison won't see one either. Light bulbs just made our days longer." To make his point he turned on the desk lamp, bringing light into his dark office. He looked at Dr. Schaeffer. "To what do I owe this visit?"

"I wanted to apologize for my earlier behavior," Schaeffer said quietly, barely making eye contact.

"Yeah, it looks especially bad since I saved your mother's life and all," House said, not giving her an ounce of compassion. She hadn't given any to Cuddy and he refused to do the same.

"I have realized that I while I am a good hospital administrator, I am a lousy family member of a patient," she said. "I would like to have you more involved," she held up her hands as she saw House start to protest, "but I understand process and I'll leave it up to you."

"Even if that process is allowed because I'm shagging the boss?" House said. He stared hard at Schaeffer, willing her to make eye contact with him.

She finally did. "I apologize for those comments, again. I shouldn't have said them."

"But you believe them." House continued to glare at Schaeffer.

She didn't respond. Instead she turned and began to leave the room. "If you could let me know the results of those tests your team is running as soon as possible I would appreciate it," she said. "Dr. Masters came by the room to tell me what's going on."

"She's a jewel," House said, sarcasm dripping from each syllable.

"I'd hire her in a heartbeat," Schaeffer said. "She's honest and she understands protocol."

"Don't let her fool you," House responded. "She's a master manipulator."

Schaeffer shook her head, her expression filled with disbelief.

House now shook his head. "Okay, I warned you."

"Well, let me know," she nodded, paused then left the office.

House watched her go and gave thanks to a diety he didn't believe in that he Lisa Cuddy was his boss and not the woman who just walked out of the door.

As House turned to walk behind his desk he heard someone walk into the office. He turned and sat down at his chair. Standing in the doorway was Chase. He looked confused and slightly angry, his car keys dangled from his fingers.

"Didn't you leave an hour ago?" House asked.

"I can't find my car!" he said. He held up the keychain. "I keep pushing the alarm to locate it and can't hear it."

House sighed. "Was it stolen?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

Chase shook his head. He pulled out a wadded up piece of white copy paper from his coat pocket. Opening it, he walked over to the desk and handed it to House.

House looked at it. It was a "Missing Poster" with a picture of Chase's car on it and a brief description of his car. Along the bottom was written, "Family car. Has great sentimental value. Reward offered." Chase's cell phone number was typed on small bits of paper that were cut in slits on the very bottom. House smiled. "Wow. That's good." He handed the paper back to Chase.

"These posters are hung up all over the hospital," Chase complained.

"Well, then it shouldn't be too much longer before someone finds it," House responded. "Till then take my car." He pulled out his keys and tossed them to Chase. "Don't touch my Penthouse collection on the back seat."

Chase shook his head and left. House leaned back in his chair. Maybe he should take some time to solve this prankster puzzle while his team was conducting further tests. He grabbed his cane and walked out, creating a plan as he left.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Cuddy glanced at the clock on her desk. It was after 5 pm. She was supposed to be halfway home by now. Today was supposed to be a normal 9-5 day. Three more file to go through, she thought. Thirty minutes max. Marina was schedule til 6pm regardless. Both her nanny and Rachel were used to it by now. Cuddy was also familiar with the wave of guilt she now felt on shortchanging both her personal and professional lives. She always played catch-up. And she was getting tired of it.

She quickly signed the worksheet she had just approved and grabbed the next file. She was halfway through it when her office door opened. She looked up and saw Wilson walk into the room.

"Aren't you supposed to be leaving now?" he asked.

"Yes," she continued to look through the file.

"Doesn't look like it," Wilson said.

"I am finishing up," Cuddy said, looking up. "If these don't get approved now then we'll miss the ordering deadline and the government will give our free clinic supplies to someone else. We're already low because I didn't get this in last week. Rachel fell off the playground at the park and we spent the evening waiting on wrist x-rays."

"Oh," Wilson said. He sat down.

"It's not like I did it on purpose," Cuddy said, somewhat defensively. "I mean, Rachel needed her mother."  
"Yes, she did," Wilson said, still noncommittally.

Cuddy stopped initialing the forms and looked up at Wilson. "Sorry." She wiped a hand across her tired face. "I'm stressed. Again. Always."

Wilson looked at his friend. "Just go home. And stop feeling guilty."

Cuddy opened her eyes in surprise. "How…?"

"You've always let guilt get the better of you," Wilson said matter-of-factly. "Plus, House told me you were shaken up enough after one conversation with Dr. Scheaffer that he almost hit a home run with you on that very desk." Wilson smiled.

Cuddy felt her anger flare but it died quickly. She knew the two men told each other everything. Usually it was a good thing. "Yeah, she unknowingly stirred up my deep anxieties of slowly failing at everything I'm attempting to do: running this hospital; being a mom; a girlfriend." Cuddy smiled. "She didn't mean, too. It's my own fault. I can't let it go."

"Go home," Wilson said kindly. "I'll finish the forms for the clinic supplies."

Cuddy's face softened. "You're a kind man, Wilson."

"Yeah, don't let that get around," he replied. He stood and came over to her side of the desk and took the papers from her then began to walk out the door.

"Did you need something?" Cuddy asked, finally wondering why he had come to her office.

"It'll wait," Wilson said. She looked too tired and stressed for the information he was going to relay about House and his reasons behind the Desk Quest.

Just then Cuddy's phone buzzed. She almost didn't pick it up. "Yes?" she said, answering it. "Just now? Okay. I'm on my way," she said wearily. She hung up. The lightness she had felt moments earlier had vanished.

"What?" Wilson asked.

"Two nurses just found the "new security cameras" installed in the locker rooms and are going ballistic."  
"You installed cameras in the locker rooms…." Wilson said. Then he figured it out. "The prankster strikes again."

"It better not be House….or you!" Cuddy said. She was dialing her phone. "I need to call and get Marina to stay a bit later."

"It's not House or I," Wilson said emphatically. "Don't worry. I'll go over with Rachel until you get home." Wilson saw Cuddy's eyebrow rise. "Look, Uncle James is way more fun than any stuffy nanny. Especially when he stops for ice cream on the way."

Cuddy stood and hugged Wilson. "Thank you. I'll figure this out and get home soon. One hour max."

"No problem." Wilson handed the government forms back to Cuddy. "Here, only one good task a day for me. Sign these while you dismantle the security cameras!" He laughed and left the office.

Cuddy followed him out, opening the folder and doing her best to sign as she walked to the elevators.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Foreman secured the belt across Margaret's legs as she lay on the MRI table. She was still unconscious but as a precaution he had strapped her down. The quicker they completed this MRI the closer they were to the diagnosis. Foreman had already drawn some blood to test for paraneoplastic syndrome but he felt like he should run Margaret through the MRI again. It would take the same amount of time to run the blood tests as it would for Foreman to cut in line at the MRI and do a full-body scan. Foreman thought it more efficient. This way if the tests came back positive, Foreman would already know where the tumor was that was causing the syndrome.

He checked the straps again and pushed the button that slowly slid the table into the machine. He walked quickly into the control booth. He heard the door open to the MRI room. He turned to see Cuddy walk in. She quickly came into the booth with him and closed the door. Foreman nodded a greeting to her and sat down at the computer. Until she told him to stop he was going to assume he had permission to continue.

She continued to stand as Foreman began the test. There was a brief silence then the MRI began and filled the rooms with the loud thudding noise of its mechanics.

"You cut in line," Cuddy finally said.

"Sorry," he said unconvincingly and not turning his attention from the screen. "I figured you'd give our patient priority. " He hesitated then looked at Cuddy. "I also thought you'd gone home."

Cuddy smiled. "I was on my way home then had to deal with some fall out from our local prankster." Foreman lifted his eyebrows in question, "Nope, still don't have an identity. Don't change the subject. So, you were going for forgiveness rather than permission."

Now Foreman hit the pause button on the scan and turned to face Cuddy. "Yeah."

"House didn't sign off on this either."

"No, but,"

"Dr Foreman," Cuddy interrupted. "There are protocols here at this hospital. It may not be even close to any protocols in any other hospital but they're still there. Use them. Run these things by House," Cuddy said, looking directly at Foreman. Foreman ducked his head, scolded. Cuddy waited until he looked back at her. She smiled. "Then you can cut in line."

Foreman smiled softly and nodded. "Okay. I thought I should do this MRI while waiting for the blood tests."

"Fine," Cuddy said. She tilted her head at Foreman.

"I'll follow protocol."

"Thanks."

They both turned towards the screen. Foreman began the scan again. They both watched the MRI move down Margaret's body, the screen showing the insides of the woman's body in various colors. They watched passively as it passed her sinuses and her throat. Cuddy was going to ask Foreman to pause the scan again so she could leave just as the MRI reached Margaret's chest. Both Foreman and Cuddy saw the mass at the same time.

"Damn," Cuddy said softly.

Foreman shook his head. "We may not need the blood test results back now," he said. "I think we just found our tumor."

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

House sat on the bench in the front lobby. He watched people as they approached the glass doors to the cafeteria. Then he watched as they read the sign typed neatly on PPTH paper that said, "Door Broken. Please use other door." Then he laughed as the people always tried the other door only to smash their noses against it when it didn't open. It was now almost 7 o'clock in the evening and foot traffic was light, but there was enough of a steady stream to provide some entertainment. Sure House could have pulled the sign down but rarely did House get to watch the results of a prank without having to deal with the repercussions of the prank.

He had done a bit of research and had some theories on the prankster. He was waiting for one last piece of evidence before collecting the suspects. Whoever the prankster was, he or she was very adept at covering his or her tracks. For a few minutes that afternoon House had even analyzed the possibility of all these pranks actually being the work of Kutner from beyond the grave. Ghosts would have a hard time operating a sewing machine, however.

He chuckled as a couple of chatty nurses ran full steam into the door, the sound of the loud thuds of their foreheads hitting the glass ringing through the lobby. They turned and glared at the sound of House's laughter. They glared harder when they saw who sat their taking delight in their pain.

House threw up his hands in defense. "I didn't do it." He said quickly. They both looked unconvinced. "Seriously." He paused and smiled. "But that doesn't mean I can't enjoy it."

They glared at him again before trying the other door to the cafeteria and walking in. House figured he'd have a note from HR again in the morning. He'd pass it on to Cuddy. As usual.

His phone in his pocket began to vibrate a half-second before the ringtone began. The smooth sounds of Barry White's "Can't Get Enough of Your Love, Babe" signaled that Cuddy was on the line. He smiled as he answered.

"How 'bout you bring your lovely form back to the hospital and I'll show you my collection of medicinal alcohols," he said softly. "After all, a call this late at night can only mean one thing."

"Yeah, your patient has a mass on her thymus,"came Cuddy's response through the receiver.

"No, that's not it," House replied sadly.

"Get up here to Margaret's room. Beth is going to lose it." The phone clicked off.

House sighed. He thought Cuddy had gone home earlier. This was her short day at the hospital. She usually left by 5:00 p.m. He stood and began the walk to his patient's room, wondering what he'd encounter once he got there.

He heard the commotion the moment he stepped out of the elevator doors. Looking down the hallway he could see Dr. Schaeffer standing with hands on hips ripping into Foreman. Cuddy stood between the two. Foreman was just standing there; the same emotionless expression that he used for just about every occasion on his face.

"My mother has a mass on her thymus!" Dr. Schaeffer yelled. "That proves that your theory of paranealplastic syndrome is correct. We fix both the mass and the syndrome with radiation! It's basic treatment 101."

"Yes, we found a mass in your mother's chest, but we couldn't confirm that it was a thymoma," Foreman said calmly. "We also found another mass on her liver. Neither mass was especially dense."

"So you don't think it's cancer?" Schaeffer threw back.

"We have to biopsy it to confirm," Foreman responded.

"In the meantime," Scheaffer yelled, this time turning to Cuddy, "my mother lays here, unresponsive, waiting for her body to throw another clot in an attempt to get rid of the tumor."

Cuddy had her best calm, administrative face on. "Look, Beth, we don't know if it's a tumor. We don't even have confirmation of Paranealplastic syndrome. The blood tests results are being rushed through right now."

House had made it to the room yet, but hung outside for a moment. He could see Taub and Masters hanging in the back. Masters looked like she wanted to say something but was afraid of the she-devil now taking on Cuddy and Foreman.

"I don't give a rat's ass if the blood tests are being 'rushed'!" Schaeffer now took a step closer toward Foreman. "I want my mother in radiation within the next 30 minutes. Before her whole body gives out!"

Foreman shook his head. "If your mother does have an autoimmune that caused a mass or…"he hesitated to use the word, "a tumor, we need to be cautious. Exposing your mother to any radiation will destroy her immune system and allow the autoimmune to ravage her system."

Schaeffer glared at Foreman after he finished and Masters took the break to interject, "Yes, Dr. Schaeffer. Dr Foreman is right. It could be a number of autoimmune diseases, I don't know, like Myasthenia gravis. 75% of people with Myasthenia gravis do have an abnormality in their thymus with and 25% of those do have a thymoma. But the odds of the thymoma, if it's even a thymoma, being benign or malignant varies." She smiled, her data giving her confidence. "So, it's definitely too early to throw radiation into her body. Doing so might…"

Schaeffer's withering stare cut her off in midsentence. "I want my mother scheduled for radiation," she said, the tone of her voice not allowing for any misunderstanding in her intent. Masters stepped quickly back into the shadows.

"No," Foreman said strongly. "We need to more data."

"You radiated a young girl without permission at my hospital with less information to go on than that!" Schaeffer yelled.

Foreman's resolved flickered for a second but he held his ground. "I don't think it is a thymoma. There's also a mass in her liver. I don't know exactly what they are, but radiation is too aggressive right now."

Scheaffer crossed the last two feet of space between her and Foreman and leveled her gaze directly at him. "You don't _think_ it's a thymoma. Oh, so now you're using those supernatural instincts you have when it come to medical procedures. This is how you let your doctors operate, Lisa?" Scheaffer turned her gaze to Cuddy. "You let them make critical medical decisions based on hunches. Based on gut feelings?"

"Look, Beth," Cuddy said, her voice rising in volume. "You can't tell me you've never once done that. Medical knowledge and testing can sometimes only go so far."

"So this is how the great Diagnostics Department works at Princeton Plainsboro?" Schaeffer said mockingly. She took a step back. "That's your process? Throwing darts at a medical dart board, hoping you hit something close and then pulling out the Ouija board to make the final decision?"

There was silence in the room. House broke it by his entrance.

"You were the one who brought your mother to this hospital with this diagnostic department," he said and he stepped into the tension-filled room. "But if you prefer we'll pull out the divining rods for the final diagnosis."

Scheaffer spun on her heels and walked the short distance to where House stood. "I want my mother to receive radiation for the thymoma that is causing the paranealplastic syndrome."

"I heard," House replied.

"I will take my mother to another hospital now that we have the diagnosis," Schaeffer said. She pulled out her phone.

"Not the Briar Patch, Bre'r Bear!" House mocked.

Cuddy walked over to Scheaffer throwing her best "Shut up now" look at House. "Beth, this may not be the diagnosis. These people know what they're doing. Wait for the tests."

"Dr. Schaeffer," Foreman said quietly, "all of her symptoms still don't fit with a single diagnosis. We can't rule anything out yet." He walked over to stand across from Scheaffer again. "You're going to have to trust us." He held solid eye contact with Scheaffer as he spoke. The room was silent. Scheaffer returned Foreman's stare.

"Fine," Scheaffer finally said. "We'll wait for the blood test results and I want those biopsies done now."

"Way to go with that gut instinct," House said not so under his breath. Everyone ignored him.

Foreman nodded. "It'll be done within the hour."

Cuddy grabbed a hold of Schaeffer's elbow and began to lead her out of the door. "Come, you can spend the night in my office. The couch is very comfortable." She threw the "Shut Up" glare at House as she walked by him. "I'll get you set up before I leave and I'll have my phone with me at all times." The now quiet Dr. Scheaffer let herself be led away.

House looked at Foreman. "Call me with the results," House told him. "I'll be in my office on the not so comfortable chair. Use my cell phone. The office phone is kinda broken…"

House then looked over at Margaret lying unconscious on the bed. He noticed that her skin had turned a yellowish tan in the hours since he had last seen her. He walked over and lifted up one of Margaret's eyelids to reveal a yellow eyeball. "And get those biopsies done fast. Her liver's shutting down. Good thing Dr. Schaeffer didn't see that one coming. She would have fired you again."

**CUT TO COMMERCIAL**

****

Thanks for reading. One more Act coming soon!


	6. Chapter 6

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own House or anything even related to the show. But if I did House and Cuddy would still be trying to make it work. Yo.**

**Okay, the final act, my fellow fans. I hope you like it! Sorry it's long but I had a hard time editing it down. Thanks for the great reviews. Let me know if you liked it. It's been fun to write.**

**The final scenes in this Act were written to accompany the following song: "I Don't Want To Let You Go" by Weezer. Here are two links to play it: ****.com/#/s/I+Don+t+Want+To+Let+You+Go/2zB62u?src=5**** or ****.com/watch?v=MawqcUsK-7E**** . If the links don't come through go to either Grooveshark or youtube and type "Weezer I Don't Want To Let You Go" into the search window. Use the whole song title as the band has another song called "Don't Let go" which is a good song, but not the right one. Hopefully, one of those will work. You don't HAVE to listen to the song at the appointed place, but it makes it more House-like at the end. I will mark the place in the act where you should begin the music. I suggest you go queue it up now so you can quickly access it and not lose the flow of the story. Enjoy!**

"**Letting Go" - A Winter Fanisode**

**Act Six**

Masters was waiting her turn. She had hand carried the blood work down to the lab to check for paranealplastic syndrome. Foreman had told her to not let anyone cut in front of her. The hospital had two machines with computers that could perform the tests she needed. One of those machines was currently not working. That left her next in line. The tech had assured Masters that she would run the team's labs next and told Masters she'd call her with the results, but Masters wasn't budging. Dr. Cuddy herself had ordered these tests to be completed immediately. Masters held onto that command with a firm grip.

"Almost done," the lab tech said. She pulled the tubes of blood out of the cylinder and quickly recalibrated the machine before signing out on the computer. "All yours. I'm gonna grab a bite to eat." She grabbed her vials and paperwork and went over to the long messy countertop that sat against the far wall of the room. Dropping all the info she had just collected onto the pile, the tech left Masters starring at her.

"This is why I wanted to do this myself," she muttered as she opened the cylinder and began her carefully organized method that almost guaranteed accurate test results. She prided herself on her accuracy. It didn't always lend itself to speed, however, so Masters had to double time it.

Taub entered the lab and walked over to Masters. "How's it going?" he asked, trying to finger through her notes and papers. Masters quickly, but softly, batted away his hand. He looked up in surprise.

"Sorry, but I have a system," Masters said. "I'm almost done."

"Whatever," Taub replied. He took a seat on the stool across the table from her.

"How's Margaret?" Masters said, mostly to fill the heavy silence.

"Same." Taub spun side to side on the stool, bored. "Her liver is still salvageable if we figure this out quickly. Schaeffer hasn't come back to the room yet and we haven't notified her of the new development."

Masters looked up shocked. "She needs to be told. It's her mother. We need to maintain informed consent."

Taub stopped moving on the stool and made eye contact with Masters. "Okay, you do it." Masters seemed to lose her breath and then quickly broke the eye contact. "Exactly. None of us want that wrath aimed at us."

"She should still know," Masters quietly mumbled. "I'll text it to Cuddy. She'll tell her."

"Coward."

"Fine," Masters said, trying to build up courage she did not feel. "I'll tell her when we get the blood and biopsy results back."

"Perfectly safe," Taub said.

There was more silence. "Did you need something?" Masters asked him.

"Nope," Taub replied. "Just waiting."

Masters was confused, but Taub didn't expand on just what he was waiting for. "Okay, well the tests have maybe fifteen minutes then…"

Taub suddenly stood up. He watched as Lou the janitor pushed his cleaning cart by the glass windows. "Okay. Page me." And then he left.

Masters watched him leave. People confused her sometimes. She had never been one to socialize or connect with others. She hadn't even wanted to. It was times like these that reconfirmed those feelings. She turned back to the computer screen as the first results began to appear.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Cuddy quietly let herself into her house. She didn't think Wilson would have Rachel to be by now even though it was well past her bedtime. She had discovered long ago that Uncle James pretty much threw most rules out the window when he was around. Cuddy didn't mind, however, as Wilson had been the one constant male in Rachel's life since Cuddy had adopted her. Cuddy still had hope that House would take that title, but...

She closed the door and slipped out of her high heels. She didn't hear any commotion and couldn't see anyone. Maybe Wilson had finally held fast to the rules. She walked through the empty front rooms and back into the kitchen where a light was on.

Wilson sat at the table, a National Geographic magazine open on the table in front of him. He seemed absorbed by the article and didn't look up when she entered. Rachel sat in her high chair next to Wilson at the table; sound asleep. A cushion from the living room couch had been placed under her head. A half-eaten bowl of ice cream had been pushed out of the way on her tray. It was perfectly peaceful. Cuddy sighed.

Wilson's head sprang up. He smiled. "Oh, hi, didn't hear you come in. This article about the "Russian Riviera" in Cyprus is very interesting." He chuckled. He saw Cuddy glance at Rachel. He chuckled again. "She passed out halfway through the second bowl of ice cream"

Cuddy shook her head. "Seriously?"

"Hey," Wilson said, bringing his hands up in defense, "you always complain that I don't get Rachel to bed on time and well…." He motioned over to Rachel. "Ta-daaahh!"

Cuddy finally laughed. "How long has she been asleep?"

"About 30 minutes, I think," Wilson said, glancing at his watch. "Yup. You want me to carry her to bed?"

"No," Cuddy said, smiling sadly. "I'll do it. Then at least I can say I've held her today." She sighed as she moved around the table to get Rachel.

"Do I still detect tones of guilt in your voice?" Wilson said as he helped Cuddy take the tray off the high chair.

Cuddy didn't say anything but gave Wilson a look that answered him affirmatively. "Finish your article. I'll be right back." She carried Rachel off, rubbing her back as she walked away.

Wilson turned back to the magazine and barely finished the article before Cuddy returned. "Wow, you are speedy," he said.

She sat down at the table with him. "Yeah, not earning Mother-of-The-Year points tonight. I just put her in her bed and washed her hands and face." She smiled weakly. "There's no reason to ruin her good night's sleep so I can have time with her."

Wilson smiled sadly back at her. "You're too hard on yourself."

"Maybe, but…"

"Look, I don't know what Schaeffer said to you but you're a good mom and a good administrator. And just by the fact that your still with House means you're a good girlfriend," he said kindly.

"I just feel like I'm playing catch-up all the time; like I'm always one step behind. It's frustrating. I keep thinking I can do better."

"You probably can," Wilson said matter-of-factly. He laughed at the look of disgust Cuddy flashed at him. "Buuuuuut, maybe you don't need to. Everyone seems happy with the way things are…except you. Rachel is well-adjusted and well-loved. The hospital is functioning at award winning levels and I know for a fact," Cuddy grimaced as he finished, "that House is very satisfied with how things are going." Wilson waited until Cuddy made eye contact with him again. "Because of your need for perfection your level of 'good enough' just about evens up with everyone else's level of 'really great.'"

There was a brief silence. "I do need to stop trying to be the best at everything, I know," Cuddy said finally. "I'm just a bit too competitive."

"That's fine," Wilson responded. "As long as you don't let failing at that attempt define your success."

Cuddy took Wilson's hand. "You're a nice man and a good friend."

Wilson smiled. "Don't forget 'great uncle.'"

"Never," Cuddy replied. "Would you like a cup of tea? I can fix you something." Cuddy saw Wilson's eyebrows raise in question. "House won't be coming over tonight probably. He's still at the hospital either solving the medical puzzle or the pranking puzzle. He's not easily sidetracked when he's dealing with a puzzle."

"Don't I know it," Wilson said. "Yes, I'll stay for one cup."

Cuddy stood and began pulling the supplies together for the tea. "Who knows? Maybe if I'm with House long enough some of his bravado will rub off on me. It sure would be nice to always be so sure of yourself all the time. I love him, but he's got an ego the size of Africa." She waited for a response from Wilson but stopped and turned to face him when he didn't say anything. He had an odd look on his face. "What?"

Wilson shook his head. He was thinking of his friend's dilemma of the week: trying to recreate a moment where he could feel so sure and confident in his feelings and decisions again. "Let's just say House isn't always as cocky as he lets people think he is." The look on Cuddy's face showed she disagreed. "Okay, he's always cocky, but he is definitely not always sure of everything. He has regrets. He…dwells." Wilson maintained eye contact with Cuddy. Cuddy got the message.

"You're leading me somewhere. What is it, Wilson? Tell me." She looked troubled and that was the last thing Wilson wanted to happen.

Wilson smiled reassuringly. "Well, this is something House should be telling you…but since you asked…." Wilson's grin increased as Cuddy set the tea making supplies on the counter and came back to the table to sit down.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Dr. Schaeffer lay on Cuddy's couch in the office. Cuddy was correct in that it was much more comfortable than the bed in her mother's room, but it still didn't allow her to sleep. She had not closed her eyes since she had lain down. Cuddy had been more than polite and courteous to Schaeffer and her tirade. Cuddy seemed to understand that much of her venom came from her fear and worry. She had not taken anything Schaeffer had said personally. Schaeffer thought Cuddy was an excellent hospital administrator. Apparently, having a daughter and relationship with one of her head doctors had not affected her job at all. She had sincerely told Cuddy that. Schaeffer was impressed with Cuddy's hospital. Cuddy had again assured her that House and his team would find the problem and fix it; fix her mother. Schaeffer had been impressed with the trust and confidence Cuddy had in her employees. It was something Schaeffer was going to have to work on at her own hospital. The two hospital administrators had shared a warm hug before Cuddy left for the night. That had been almost two hours ago. It was nearly midnight.

The surge in hope about her mother's condition had been brief. She now began to cope with the fact she could actually lose her mother in the next few hours. For years she had held her mother responsible for so many things: not being able to have friends over to play; not having a place to eat dinner; not having her father in her life. As Schaeffer had grown into an adult she realized her father had had some problems even before the hoarding had begun. She now understood through the few and brief interactions with her father she had experienced that her father was a rather selfish man. He had married mom for her rich parents and couldn't see the point in sticking around. The hoarding had only given him a "solid" reason to abandon his family. But Schaeffer still held onto the belief, whether it was true or not, that her mother was greatly responsible for her father leaving. She couldn't let that belief go.

Schaeffer sat up on the couch, realizing that sleep would not come tonight. She glanced at her watch. Those test results were due any minute, she thought. She decided she'd go see if her mother was back from getting the biopsy. And yet she just sat there. She was exhausted. She was overwhelmed. But she willed herself to stand and walk out of the office through the darkened front room of the clinic to be with her mother.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Foreman looked closely at the monitor as he guided his biopsy needle toward the mass in Margaret's chest. Chase held the ultrasound wand and waited for direction on where Foreman needed him to go.

"Did they find your car…dude?" Foreman asked, a small smile playing on his lips.

"Yeah," Chase said disgusted. "The jerk had parked it down by the convenience mart on the corner. Off campus!" He checked the monitor to make sure he was still scanning the right area. "I never would have found it if the prankster hadn't posted the Missing signs. At least that was decent of him."

"Yes, our prankster has a benevolent soul apparently. He didn't actually _cut_ our coat sleeves either. He's not spiteful."

"Any idea who it is?" Chase asked.

"Oh, not really." Foreman paused. "To your left five centimeters, Chase. Perfect. Well, we've all been punked, so it's not any of us."

"That's what he or she wants you to think," came House's voice from the doorway. He was standing there holding a mask to his face. It was to both Chase's and Foreman's credit that neither one jumped or shifted their instruments. "Any change in her condition?" House asked.

"No, liver still shutting down, but not quickly. Kidneys are going but she'll get another dialysis treatment when I'm done here. We maybe have 6-8 hours before she goes on the transplant list." Chase responded, holding the ultrasound wand steady.

House nodded, noting the new deadline. "You two almost done?"

"Almost…," Foreman said slowly. House and Chase both watched Foreman insert the needle into the mass and grasp a chunk of it. Foreman then slowly pulled out the needle. "Yes, done. I already have a piece of the mass in the liver. I'll tell you right now neither one is a cancerous tumor."

"I'll let you be the one to tell Schaeffer I told you so. Now do you want to go on a snipe hunt with me?" House asked.

Chase and Foreman stared at House. "You know who the prankster is?" Chase asked.

"I have a theory," House replied. "Quick. Put that piece in a bottle and we'll take it to Masters in the lab ourselves. How's that for service?"

Foreman and Chase looked at each other. They shrugged. "Sure." Foreman did as instructed and then let the nurse take over putting the bandage over the insertion site. The nurse nodded when Foreman told her to take Mrs. Pettigrew back to her room. Both Chase and Foreman then ripped off their masks and followed House out the swinging door.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Foreman and Chase removed the rest of their surgical gear en route to the lab. The regular lab tech was back at the computers. She said that Masters had left about 15 minutes ago. Chase handed her the biopsy samples and flashed a smile at her. She agreed to run the samples now and page Chase with the results as soon as it was done. Chase smiled again and they left. House muttered something about bringing Chase along the next time he needed to take 15 items through the 10-Item Quick Check-Out Lane at the market then led his posse toward the elevator.

"Where we headin', sheriff?" Chase did in a horrible Texan accent.

House merely turned and glared at him.

When the doors opened they followed right behind him. He started to slow his walk as neared the clinic. Cuddy's office was dark. The clinic lights were off. Only the emergency lighting panels gave an eerie light to the room. Both Chase and Foreman were surprised when House confidently, yet quietly opened the door.

"Wha…" Foreman began to whisper, but was silenced quickly by House. House just shook his head and indicated to stay quiet. The three walked silently towards the front desk. They lined up against it and looked over the counter. Someone was squatting on the floor facing away from the where the three now stood. The person had four large grocery sacks and was silently taking staplers from one of them and lining them up methodically on the floor around the inside of the desk area.

Both Foreman and Chase almost verbally reacted when they saw who it was, but they instead looked at House. It was his town to clean up after all.

House's voice boomed through the silence and echoed off the hard walls and floors. "If you're still figuring out what to steal next from the clinic I sure could use a new supply of condoms. I don't think you'll want me returning them, however."

The sound made the person topple over onto the floor, scattering the contents of the bag. About 15 staplers surrounded the Merry Prankster who was now staring up into the amused faces of his colleagues.

"What the….? Damn!" Taub said in one breath as he lay on the floor, his hand over his heart. "You scared the …."

"We should be asking you the same question?" Chase said.

"I'll be damned," Foreman said, shaking his head. "I didn't think you had it in you."

Taub quickly recovered and sat up. He kicked the staplers out of his way and finally got to his feet. He looked at the three of them. "How did you figure it out?" he addressed this to House. He had had no doubt House would discover the true identity of the Princeton Plainsboro Prankster. He actually thought he'd be caught sooner, but House was definitely more distracted these days. Taub shook his head in disappointment. He had been so close.

House rested his hands on the countertop. He looked disappointed. "I was actually hoping we'd catch Kutner's ghost." He sighed heavily. "Another dream shattered," he said dramatically. He looked at Taub, who was still waiting for the answer on how he got caught. "Well, I wasn't 100% sure as the new camera security team doesn't let me come 'hang out' like the last crew did. Then I saw all those signs posted around. They never were posted higher than about here," he brought his hand to his chest level and then moved the hand out so that it stopped on Taub's head. "That was the first solid clue. Should have gotten a ladder." Chase and Foreman laughed. Taub had no response. He was used to the short jokes now. "But the clincher was rock solid evidence I paid good money to a valued employee for." House paused. "Well, Cuddy through a reimbursement form to the hospital for ace bandages paid good money for. Seems you had to get a minion to help you in your deeds."

"The Janitor?" Taub explained. "But I paid Lou. A lot. And all he had to do was unlock the clinic doors."

"Well, I paid him more. A piece of advice to you for the future," House said. "Don't pay until the con's done, my friend. Rookie mistake."

All Taub could do was shake his head. He had almost done it. And now House would run the information straight to Cuddy. He wondered what his punishment would be.

House, however, didn't leave. He had only solved part of the puzzle. He needed the last piece. "Why?" he asked Taub.

Taub held his gaze and debated on what to say. He figured since his prankster days were over he might as well get some closure out of it. "Kutner."

Both Chase and Foreman blinked in surprise. House's eyes narrowed as he tilted his head in question.

"Kutner killed himself exactly three years ago tomorrow," Taub said softly. He ducked his head. "Not a day's gone by where I haven't wondered what I could have done. What I could have said…to him."

"No one saw anything," Foreman said quietly. He had often wondered those same things over the past three years.

"No, but maybe we should have," Taub countered. "Maybe we _could_ have." There was silence as Taub stood there and took a deep breath. "If I had been a better friend. If I had accepted his invitations for dinner."

"He didn't ever talk or act like he wanted to…" Chase didn't finish his thought.

Taub nodded. "I needed to find a way to honor Kutner. I needed to find a way to let go of all that guilt and second-guessing, but hold on to his memory. I was almost done…." There was a long silence. "Go ahead, let the mocking begin," he finally said.

No one said anything snarky or rude. None of them wanted to. The subject was still tender to all present.

"At least you didn't set a patient on fire," Chase said, laughing softly at the memory.

"Or electrocute yourself while using a defibrillator," Foreman offered.

They looked at House who hadn't said anything since Kutner's name had been brought up. House said nothing now. He, too, had re-examined every aspect of his relationship with Kutner leading up to his suicide. He was still amazed and embarrassed he hadn't picked up on anything; hadn't picked up on any of the feelings that he himself experienced time and again. His therapy with Dr. Nolan had been somewhat successful in helping him let go of the guilt he felt over both Amber's and Kutner's death, but often doubts crept up, clouding his rationalizations. He knew he would never be completely over any of it. He understood Taub had found a way to deal with his baggage and had enough empathy to not judge or knock his methods.

"So when can I expect my punishment to reign down from Cuddy," Taub said, fully expecting that House was on his way over to her place immediately following his big bust.

House shook his head. "Don't know," he said. "Cuddy's pretty smart so she'll figure it out soon." All three doctors now turned their stunned attention to House. He sighed, exasperated. "Oh, come on, stop looking at me like I've turned into a unicorn that barfs hearts and farts rainbows. I have some respect for the dead," He said, disgruntled. His team members' faces expressed disbelief. "Shut up. Okay, mostly I admire his pranking skills, however remedial in talent they are. The boy's got some promise." House's face softened a bit for a moment as he spoke again. "Everyone needs to find a way to cope. Everyone finds a different way to deal with things. Some ways are more warped than others." His voice returned to normal. "Look, for heaven's sake, even our dying patient has come up with her own way. Each week she gives her blood in her dead parents' memory all the while keeping every scrap of paper she's ever touched. She hoards everything but her blood…" House's voice trailed off as his eyes seemed to lose focus on those around him. He turned his head as his mind processed the latest thought that had popped into his brain. His entire team knew instantly he had solved the patient's medical mystery.

He grabbed his cane and turned around quickly, heading towards the door. "Wipe off your fingerprints later. I just figured this thing out."

The team needed no second request as Taub leapt over the desk and followed Chase and Foreman out the door.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Master's entered Margaret's room, but stopped quickly when she saw Dr. Schaeffer leaning over her mother. Schaeffer was lifting up her mother's eyelids making the liver-failure induced yellowing clearly visible. Schaeffer spun on the sound of Master's footsteps. Masters stiffened in preparation of the verbal onslaught she fully expected to come.

"Her liver is failing," Schaeffer said her voice quiet and resigned.

Masters nearly gasped in astonishment. Her face registered her surprise.

"Thought I was going to scream at you, didn't you?" Schaeffer said. Masters just nodded. "Two hours ago I would have. Now I just need to know what the latest test results are."

Masters moved slowly forward. "You shouldn't give up hope, you know. We'll figure it out," she said.

"I haven't given up hoping," Schaeffer said. "I've just given up the bitchy attitude that usually gets results." She smiled weakly. "I'm not very good at giving up control."

Masters returned Schaeffer's smile. "I know what you mean. Sort of," she said, not expanding on her comment. Instead, she handed the folders with her results to Schaeffer to look at. House would probably rake her over the coals for it, but Schaeffer had a right to know and she was certainly capable of reading through them. "The good news is that she doesn't have Paranealplastic syndrome and the masses aren't tumors."

"So Foreman was right. Again," she said.

"Yes, ma'am," Masters agreed, oblivious to the deeper meaning.

"Unfortunately, we're still no closer to a diagnosis. The blood work turned up no obvious auto-immune disease and the masses in her thymus and her liver were actually…"

House's voice cut her off in mid-explanation. "Mostly composed of iron," House said as he walked into the room. Chase, Foreman and Taub followed him in.

This time is was Masters turn to spin around toward the door. "How did you know? I just got finished with…"

House cut her off again. "That's what happens when someone has Hemochromatosis."

Taub and Chase walked around House into the room and turned towards him. Foreman took up his position as House's wingman.

"But we tested for hemochromatosis," Masters said. "Twice!"

"Yes, I'll get into that but first things first," House said. He looked at Foreman, "Masters' tests proved that Dr. Schaeffer's mother does not have cancer and that her approach of nuking her immune system would have indeed killed her. So go ahead. You have my permission to say I told you so to the good Dr. Schaeffer." House smiled.

Foreman looked at House then turned towards Schaeffer. He shook his head. "Dr. Schaeffer was concerned about her mother and was looking out for her welfare. She was only doing what she thought was best," he said without sarcasm or guile.

Schaeffer returned his stare and nodded. "You were right, Dr. Foreman. I know that you were also only looking out for the welfare of your patient by standing up to me. Thank you."

"Certainly," Foreman responded civilly.

House looked disappointed. He stared at Foreman. "Well, that didn't go how I had planned. Or hoped." He turned back towards Schaeffer. "Okay, the patient. Yes, we did test for Hemochromatosis or HHC but the same factors that kept bringing back negative results on the blood work were also in play for delaying the symptoms. I know you all know the basics but humor me as I process." House took a deep breath. "Everyone needs iron. Iron carries oxygen in hemoglobin to all parts of the body. Normally, humans absorb about 8-10% of the iron in foods that they eat. People with HHC can absorb four times that amount. People with HHC absorb extra amounts of iron from the daily diet because their bodies can't get rid of the extra iron. Over time, these excesses build up in major organs such as the heart, liver, pancreas, joints and pituitary."

House paused to see if everyone was still listening and of course they were. "Women with HHC are more difficult to diagnose because of the monthly visits from Aunt Flow. And symptoms such as arthritis, fatigue and an irregular heartbeat can be attributed to more common diseases."

Schaeffer nodded. "Of course, her joint pain and fatigue were caused by the buildup of iron in her body not old age, arthritis or the flu."

Foreman nodded. "And the heart arrhythmia was also from the iron affecting the muscle tissue. That's what caused her to pass out and why we didn't see any heart disease."

"Exactly," House said. He smiled.

Chase still looked confused, not doubtful, just confused. "But Margaret went through menopause about ten years ago. That should have sent her HHC into overdrive."

"It would have," House said, "if she hadn't given blood every week in remembrance of her parents." Everyone's faces now held that look of full understanding. "Her giving blood had the same effect that all those blood draws at both hospitals did on her iron levels. It brought it down to barely within normal range. It's rather poetic, don't you think, that her way of honoring her dead parents actually helped save her life."

Foreman picked up the explanation from House, "Yet once she stopped menstruating the blood donations weren't enough."

"Her body started storing up the iron," Chase contributed.

House nodded. "The iron buildup created masses in her liver and thymus. The thickened blood started shooting blood clots around. The kidneys give up. Eventually, without treatment the body hoards too much iron and the systems start shutting down. Apparently, she, like most everyone, has a hard time of letting some things go." House subtly turned his gaze to Taub. His eyes held neither scorn nor amusement. His eyes held understanding. Taub nodded.

Schaeffer, unaware of the subtext going on, slowly smiled, the first real smile of the ordeal. "HHC is treatable, but not curable. Will her liver and kidneys recover?"

"Not 100% sure," House said honestly. "We'll begin with kelation to get rid of the immediate threat then make sure we blood-let her every so often til we get her iron back to normal levels. We'll also do a Serum ferritin blood test and a TIBC to confirm HHC. I think her liver may be okay, but she may lose that one kidney." He shrugged. "Oh well, you only need one anyway. Ironically, future treatment is pretty much what she's been doing. Giving blood. And under new FDA guidelines she'll still be able to donate some of that. We'll need to also add diet restrictions and regular blood work to her mini memorial services."

House looked around the room, satisfied with his performance. He had done it again. He now knew for certain that his diagnoses of late had been delayed by his relationship with Cuddy. He was silently embarrassed he hadn't thought of Hemochromatosis during the first round of differentials. The important thing was that he had figured it out before anyone else AND before the patient had died. As long as those two factors stayed in play he was satisfied.

"Okay, then, my job here is done," House said. He began to turn to leave when his gaze stopped at Schaeffer. He looked at her carefully. She began to look unnerved.

"Thank you," Schaeffer stammered out, unsure of what House was looking for but trying to get her moxie back in place.

"Sure," he said, not looking for gratitude. "Unless you've been sneaking out to the tanning bed the nurses keep in the old files room in the basement you'd better get tested for HHC as well. You look considerably tanner than when you arrived here a couple of days ago. Your mom most likely has Hereditary Hemochromatosis, which means you may as well. Tans are truly not healthy things in more ways than one." Everyone's attention turned to Dr. Schaeffer as she held up her arms to get a better look. "Wow, _two_ lives saved. My job here is done. Hook her up, Foreman," House instructed as he finally turned and left the room.

They all just stood there for a moment processing what just happened. Foreman immediately took charge. "Masters, please run the tests and start kelation." Taub looked over at Foreman waiting for his instructions. Foreman motioned for him and Chase to follow him out to the hallway. Schaeffer walked over and put her hand on his arm to stop him.

"Dr. Foreman," she said sincerely, "I am very grateful that you stuck with your gut feelings. I know they were based on sound medical theories. I will try to encourage more of that in my doctors at New York Mercy." She laughed. "Okay, maybe just a little bit more."

Foreman smiled. "It takes practice. And trust in your team. And you're welcome."

Schaeffer said no more, just squeezed his arm again and then turned back to go to her mother's side. Masters had already gotten another blood work tray from the cabinet and was preparing to do another draw.

Foreman walked out into the hallway and turned to face Chase and Taub. He looked at Chase briefly and received the nod he thought he would receive, then he looked at Taub. "You said earlier you were almost done. Do you need any help?"

Taub smiled and nodded. He led the way towards the elevators, glad to have not only the help, but the friendship tagging along.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

House sat at his desk in his office. His small desk lamp illuminated his paperwork but failed to keep the dark shadows far away. He was looking over Margaret's file, checking to see if his process had been the most effective possible. Most people thought he loathed paperwork and avoided it at all costs. That was only partially true. Only a few people knew that he carefully poured over every detail of every case to see if he had missed anything; if he could have done things different, better. He likened it to watching the game films. If it was good enough for Steve Young it was good enough for him.

He re-examined the files and notations of every action his team had taken. He still felt as though he should have picked up on the clues sooner, but looking through the file confirmed that he couldn't have done it any better. The way the case had progressed had been just about textbook…if the textbook had been written by the Diagnostics Department at Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital.

House closed the file and pushed it away from him, satisfied in his and his team's work. He took off his reading glasses and rubbed his face. It was late. He wondered which home he should go to when he heard the click, click, click of three inch heals on the hard hallway floor. House's heart smiled just a moment before his mouth did. He looked up at the doorway and leaned back in his chair, waiting til Cuddy appeared in his doorway. She paused there when she saw he was waiting for her.

Cuddy was surprised. "You were expecting me?" she asked.

"Either you or Nurse Jeffrey trying on your heels in the wee, empty hours of the night."

Cuddy smiled and walked into the office. She saw that he had been looking through the patient's file. She was one of the few who knew House's full process. "Everything check out?" She sat on the corner of his desk.

House nodded. "Yup, as usual," he said. "Did you come by to gloat?" Cuddy shook her head. "You know I saved Schaeffer's mom AND I diagnosed Schaeffer with hereditary HHC, too.'

It was obvious Cuddy had not heard this. She looked amazed. House never ceased to amaze her. "Wow. Now I have even more leverage. Thanks." She leaned over and grabbed a hold of House's hand, laying it on her lap. "But no, I didn't come by to gloat." She saw House begin to talk and interrupted him, "And no, Foreman didn't page me to brag about being right. You seem to be the only one that makes that such a big deal."

House looked at her. He jutted out his bottom lip. "Well, it is. So there."

Cuddy laughed. "And I'm not here to take care of another prank." She began to run her finger along the back of House's hand.

House was momentarily distracted but intrigued enough to not just pull her down onto his lap right then. "So then what is a nice girl like you doing in a place like this at this time of night?" House then sat up a bit and looked beyond Cuddy and into the hallway. "Wait a minute, where's Rachel?"

"She's at home. With Wilson," Cuddy said, waiting for House to analyze those words. House just stared at her. She looked back into those blue eyes she loved. "Wilson watched Rachel for me as I dealt with another prank. When I got home he well…he decided to meddle."

House then realized what she was talking about. Wilson had told her about the desk. House didn't know whether to be worried, embarrassed or grateful. And how much had Wilson revealed? House knew he should have said something to Cuddy. But…. "Look, I should have said…"

Cuddy shook her head. "Stop," she said softly. "I know you have a hard time getting to the point when it comes to what you're feeling. I should have connected the dots. That night was a special night for me too."

House's worry disappeared. "So why did you come to the hospital so late at night?" He thought he already knew the answer and had never wanted to be right more than at that exact moment.

Cuddy stood up and pulled House up to her by his hand. She snaked her arms around his neck and drew his lips closer to hers. Her lips touched his softly at first, caressing them, before fully taking his mouth with her own. Her kiss deepened as his arms came around her and pulled her to him. She pulled back after a moment to whisper softly, "How about we go give you some subject material for your next Penthouse letter?" She kissed him one more time then found his hand on her butt and intertwining their fingers, led him out of his office.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

(QUEUE SONG NOW)

Schaeffer was again back on the couch in her mother's room. She wanted to be as close as possible for when her mother woke up. The kelation had stripped most of the extra iron out of her body, but her levels were still high. The nurses had already set up a bag to start a therapeutic bleeding in the hopes to bring the levels even lower. Schaeffer was hopeful. As a doctor she had seen a few cases of Hemochromatosis before and knew that it was a very manageable disease. Margaret would be in the hospital for another few days as they evaluated her kidney and liver function, but then she could go home.

Schaeffer ran a hand over her face. What kind of home was that to go home to? All that stuff. It was barely livable when her mom had been healthy. Maybe she finally had the opportunity to get her mom out of that mess. She began making a mental note of the things she would do once her mom got home. Schaeffer knew she could use this disease as an excuse to clean out some of her mom's house.

"Beth?" came a soft voice.

Schaeffer looked up and saw her mom awake on the bed. Schaeffer got up quickly and went to her mother's side. To hear the sound of her mother's voice stirred up more longing and emotion than Schaeffer had felt in a very long time. "Mom?" she said, taking hold of her mother's hand. "It's me. It's Beth. How are you feeling?"

Her mom had a hard time focusing her eyes but eventually found her daughter's face. Margaret smiled but the concern on her daughter's face worried her. "I'm okay, Beth, things will be fine," she said, trying to reassure her. "I'm feeling much better. Don't worry; I won't keep you away from your job much longer."

Schaeffer was stunned. She could tell that her mother still wasn't feeling as fine as she led on, but Margaret's only concern was not burdening her daughter. Had Margaret always felt this way? Schaeffer leaned closer and put her other hand on her mother's forehead, smoothing the hair away from her face. "Oh, no mom, it's fine," Schaeffer was surprised to feel the emotions bubbling up in her as she looked into the eyes of her mother. "You're going to be fine."

Margaret shook her head. "I'm so sorry, dear, I've been such a trouble. I hate that you've had to take care of me. That's my job, dear. To take care of you."

Schaeffer's eyes became blurry with unshed tears. She was stunned to think that she had allowed her mother to create this misconception, but looking back on only the past few days she became ashamed at all the evidence pointing the finger at her. She leaned over and kissed her mother's cheek and then her forehead. "It's okay, mom. Really. I want to take care of you know. I should take care of you. We'll get you well and then we'll take you home."

She felt her mom stiffen at the mention of her house, the house her mother knew she despised. But it didn't matter. Not right now. She pulled back so her mom could see her face. "Don't worry, mom," she said smiling through the tears now sliding down her face. "You're house is fine. Untouched. I'll make sure it stays that way until you can get back home. Okay?"

Her mother nodded and smiled back before slowly falling asleep again as her daughter stroked her hair.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Cuddy and House approached the front doors of the clinic. Cuddy paused, looking for the keys in her coat pocket. "Don't bother," House said, ducking in for a kiss as he simply pushed on the unlocked doors.

"What the…" Cuddy asked. She looked around the front room. A stray stapler had found its way onto the front desk and a quick glance revealed the remaining staplers still littering the floor. "House? What do you know?" she asked, turning to him.

He grabbed her around her waist and gave her another deep kiss. "I know that in just a few minutes you won't care about any pranked staplers…" He pulled her up against his body and nearly carried her to the front glass doors of her front office. He pushed the door open with his back as he kissed her again and again. Memories of that night twenty years ago flashed through his brain. He still held that experience as one of his best but its ranking was falling based on what he was experiencing now. He stopped kissing her and pulled back. He still faced out into the clinic. He took in the moment for a brief second. He looked at Cuddy and waited for that feeling he had experienced to return; that feeling that he could commit everything he had to this woman. There was nothing but the burning desire to kiss her again. She smiled up at him, waiting for him to continue. When he didn't say anything she kissed him tenderly.

"We're going to definitely need a key for this door. I have the only one," she said as she slid her body around his, carefully maintaining contact. He stepped up behind her and began to kiss her neck as she slid the key into the door. The key didn't move and both he and Cuddy looked at the doorknob at the same time to see it turn easily. House suddenly had a horrible feeling race through his body. He pulled away from Cuddy and tried to push open the door. It wouldn't budge. The shutters were all closed.

"House?" Cuddy said warily. "What is going on?"

House looked down at her then tried to open the door again with more force. This time he managed to shove the door inward about four inches. His efforts were rewarded with hundreds of packaging Styrofoam peanuts cascading through the opening. Both he and Cuddy looked on in disbelief. The peanuts settled and shifted some more; just enough to let them know that Cuddy's entire office was filled almost to the ceiling with those annoying cushy white pieces of foam.

"TAUB!" House yelled out angrily. He whirled around trying to find that little elfin creature so he could throttle him. He should have never let him go. He was turning into a sap! "I'm going to kill that little garden gnome!" Taub had ruined everything. He was going to find him and…

Cuddy put her hand on House's arm. "House."

Her voice was so soft that it calmed him down almost immediately. "Let it go."

House shook his head. "No, I've been trying to get you like this for weeks! I thought if I did that…" His voice trailed off. He wasn't just angry at Taub for ruining the sex part. He was angry that he hadn't felt like he did all those years ago. Maybe he had been wrong…

He felt rather than saw Cuddy come into his arms and hold him tight. "It's okay," she said. "I know." He looked down at her just as she reached up to kiss him. He kissed her back, letting the anger slip away just as it had done long ago. She spoke as she continued to kiss him, "Let's go back to your place."

House stopped kissing her and stared down into her lovely blue-gray eyes and felt all those feelings he had experienced in her dorm room flood back. This was the feeling he was hoping for. He knew at this exact moment that he wanted to be with this woman forever. He knew that even when he eventually did too many stupid things to drive her away, he would still want to be with her. House allowed a small smile of satisfaction to crease his mouth. He stared at her for a long moment. "I know," was all he said before covering her mouth with his own. He pulled away. "Let's go back to my place."

Cuddy nodded. They took one last amused look at her office, the latest victim of the prankster. "House," Cuddy said. "Do you know anything about this?"

"I'll tell you later," House said, impressed with Taub's resourcefulness. He decided to let him live a bit longer. House kissed Cuddy again before grabbing her hand and leading her out the door.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Taub shuffled in his stocking feet down the hallway and into the locker room. He carried his muddied shoes in his hand. He had ditched the shovels and gloves by the caretakers shed on his way in, narrowly missing House and Cuddy leaving the hospital. That had been a bit too close, but now it was done. Foreman and Chase had helped him fill Cuddy's office with every single packing peanut he could find in the city. A leaf blower had helped fill the office the last little bit before they closed the door. He never would have finished that prank without Foreman and Chase. They had then acted as lookouts for Taub's last prank. He had bid them goodbye before coming to the locker room. It was as close to a bonding experience as he had had in his three years in House's department. It had made everything even more satisfying.

Taub pulled off his socks, noticing that they had a line of mud on them as well. He just wadded them up and tossed them into the trashcan. He needed to wash his hands as well. The dark dirt of New Jersey was caked under his fingernails but it was worth it. Come spring bright flowers would blossom in the shape of a giant smiley face on the front lawn of the hospital building. Next to it smaller flowers would spell out RIP LK. A fitting memorial to the man-child Taub had considered a friend much later than he should have.

Taub stood up and opened his locker door. He took out a small piece of white paper from the top shelf. It was a page from a prescription pad. Along the top of it typed neatly next to the Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital name and logo was "Lawrence Kutner, MD." Taub found the pen he had placed by it and looked at the list scribbled in Kutner's handwriting on the paper. Just underneath "Hide Chase's car" and "fake HR meeting" was "plant smiley face on front lawn." Everything else on the list that Taub had found among the stuff pulled from Kutner's locker three years ago had been crossed off. Taub now slowly and satisfyingly brought the pen to the paper and crossed out the last one.

"I'm sorry," Taub said softly, now with less regret and remorse and more closure than he had ever felt. "Rest in peace, my friend."

**FADE TO BLACK**

**ROLL CREDITS**

Okay, I hope you all liked that. Again sorry for the length but I hoped you stayed entertained. Let me know how you liked it. Thanks for reading!


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